


Swing

by levviewrites909



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Angst, Baseball, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death, combined au, modern day grease, modern day sandlot, modern day west side story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3967498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levviewrites909/pseuds/levviewrites909
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was unusual for other countries (besides the U.S.A) to take interest in sports such as baseball, and yet, a somewhat large city in England seemed to be obsessed. So much so, that there was a heavy hatred between the two sides of town, the East Side and the West Side. The whole thing was a result of  a terrible fight that took place, killing an innocent man, and sending two others to jail. Ever since, tensions have been high, but when Alex Smith (a notoriously obnoxious Westie), is forced to befriend an East Sider that goes by the name of Ross Hornby, will things change? Or will history repeat itself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh! I'm so excited to post this! I hope you all enjoy!!!

It was particularly hot today. Everyone on the field had their sleeves rolled up above their elbows, some even going as far as cutting off the sleeves and sacrificing their uniforms for the rest of the season. The sun beat down on the tops of their heads, the students that forgot their caps at home really regretting it at the moment.

 

Today was Monday, meaning that they got access to the field until 4 o'clock in the afternoon. They were currently going through a two week break from school, and for some reason summer seemed to come a bit early this year. The extra hours were good though , especially when the team needed extra practice and could get up early and stay all day, however on a day like this- it was absolute hell.

 

“Fucking Westies,” a young boy sitting on the bleachers cursed, twisting his hat around on his head so that the peak was over his eyes. He wore black basketball shorts, his legs spread wide and his feet resting on the metal bleacher just underneath the one he sat on. His blue socks were rolled down to his ankles, creating a lump right at the base at his leg. “Why did we switch with ‘em, Ridge? I knew something was up when they came asking to switch times.”

 

The coach looked up from the ball he was inspecting, running his fingers over the red stitching and wincing at the way it was already unravelling. “Listen, I just didn’t want to start a fight, alright? I didn’t think anything of it."

 

“Yeah, I could tell,” the boy huffed. “I feel like I might pass out.”

 

The coach rolled his eyes, straightening his glasses and returning his attention down to the ball. “Go ask Nilesy for a drink or something, Jesus Christ. Maybe he even got the milk shake machine fixed, eh?”

 

“Eh, go get some fucking milk shakes, eh! Stop complaining, blah blah blah-”

 

“Watch it, Turps- I’ll make sure you’re at the end of the lineup if you keep up with that shit.”

 

“Sorry, Coach Ridge.”

 

Ridge rolled his eyes, watching as Turps hopped off the bleachers, stomping away towards the snackshack that sat at the edge of the concrete covered park. The whole park was just a large square, holding four sets of bleachers that surrounded the one field that was created just for baseball. Most of them had helped make it, actually, putting up the fence when they were very young, just to please the older kids that had introduced baseball to their city.

 

Turps approached the shack, walking to the window where Nilesy sat, a book in his hands and his eyes glued to the page. Along the wall besides the window, a piece of wood was nailed in, a nice table in which you could eat while sitting upon the shoddy bar stools which were nailed into the ground.

 

“Oi! Nilesy!”The boy jumped, blinking up at Turps with a somewhat startled expression before realizing who it actually was.

 

“Oh, it’s just you- bloody hell, you scared the crap outta me.”

 

“Whatcha readin’ there, Niles?”

 

“ _The Shining_ , by Stephen King. An incredible book, by an incredible author. I’m just rereading the first one before I move onto the sequel.”

 

“Jeesh. How long you been working on it, that book is huge,” Turps chuckled.

 

“Eh, just a couple days, no biggie. Anyway, what can I get you?”

 

“The milkshake machine working,” the brunette asked eagerly, raising his eyebrows for an added effect that just made Nilesy chuckle.

Despite the small smile, he shook his head apologetically. “No. ‘m having a guy come in later though, to help me with it. Quite a good engineer, actually…”

“Who? One of your Westie friends?” Turps crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wood of the countertop as his eyes scanned the familiar menu that was behind the other boy.

“Err, yes. He isn’t a player though, so you can chill out… although…”

“Although what?”

“Can’t guarantee he won’t bring around his friend for protection.”

“Who’s his friend?”

“Are… you sure you want to know?”  
  


“Course I do, bloody hell, don’t be all mysterious about it, just tell me straight.”

“Alex Smith.” The words were muttered as quietly as possible, yet Turps heard them loud and clear and immediately his face wrinkled in disgust.

“Ugh, that guy? He’s probably the worst one, a big fucking prick.”

“I know, all you boys rant to me about him after games or even being near him when they leave.”

“Hmph. When are they coming?”

“Eh, I’d give ‘em half an hour. Trott claims twenty minutes, but knowing Smith…”

“You actually know him?”

“Ahuh. He’s not too terrible after you get to know him,” he paused as he watched Turps roll his eyes. “But then again, I’ve never seen a Westie and an East Sider get along well since, well since I was just about five and this whole thing started with you guys.”

“Yeah yeah, we know that you are against the rivalry. C’mon now, I’ll take a Pepsi for now, however you better come get me when that fucking milkshake machine is working and those two are a mile away.”

“By the time they are done, it’ll be four and the rest of ‘em will be showing up. You really wanna hang around for a milkshake?”

“Pft, I can’t let the Westies get their grimy mits on ‘em before us!”

Nilesy chuckled, running his hand through his long hair. “Alright, alright. If anything goes bad you can hide back in the kitchen.”

“Oh please, I can take ‘em."

“Are you fucking kidding me? Alex Smith alone can take you down, and I fucking know that Sips could one shot you if he got off his lazy ass.”

“Yeah, but I got Strippin, Ross, and Rythian on my side.”

“What? You gonna let the big guys protect you?”

“You fucking know it,” Turps chuckled, grabbing the bottle of soda from Nilesy over the counter. “And I got no shame in it either.”

Nilesy laughed again. “Hey, I heard Kim was gonna try out for the team.”

“Yeah, _try_.”

“You know, I’ve seen her hit. She’s gotta swing like Babe Ruth, and can run like Klement.”

“Doubt that,” Turps scoffed. “She’ll be showing up in a fucking skirt with flowers in her hair.”

“Maybe so, but what's wrong with that? And hey- if she let’s you get a one up on Martyn you know Ridge is gonna let her in.”

“We’ll see about that.”

~~~

She stood just 5 feet tall, wearing some old converse and knee socks. She didn’t wear a skirt, much to Turps dismay, and her short ebony hair was tied back into a messy bun, wrapped with a deep red flower that seemed to make her even prettier.

She was accompanied by another boy, that was at least a foot taller than her named Duncan. He never wanted to tryout, despite the multiple times that the team (and even Kim) tried to prod at him to do so. His excuse was that he was absolutely terrible at the game, and wouldn’t be of any help to anyone. Eventually,  some of them let it be, although Turps never let anything go and made it a point to bring it up as he walked alongside Kim, carrying _her_ backpack over his shoulder.

“Hey Dunc, you finally coming to tryout?”

 

“Fuck off, will you Turps,” Ridge yelled, glaring at the boy who was still leaning against the snack shack and nonchalantly conversing with Nilesy.

Kim smiled as she approached, holding her glove in her brand new glove in her hand that she had ordered online. She knew that they had some, but her hand was so small and none of them would’ve fit her anyway.

“Nice to see you made it,” Ridge smiled as they approached. “You ready?”

“Yup,” she nodded, looking over at Duncan and gesturing for her bag. “I hope you have a bat that I can actually hold? I was gonna buy one, but they were expensive as hell and would take ages to ship.”

“I’m sure we can rustle you up something,” Ridge shrugged, looking back towards the field where  three members of the team already stood. “Hey! Can one of you go grab Kim a smaller bat? Something that she could actually swing?”

“I got it,” one of them replied, dropping his glove and jogging towards them. He stood tall, even taller than Duncan, and tallest on their team. He was one of those people that forgot his hat, and with his dark hair- it wasn’t the nicest thing to feel the warmth of the sun being absorbed into your head. His face was just slightly red, and sweat began to collect at his hairline.

“Thanks Ross, uh… you’ve never played before?” The redhead turned back towards Kim. 

“I’ve practiced a bit, but I don’t think that really counts.”

“It’s fine, I’ll explain it,” Ridge nodded, smiling. “I don’t want you to feel more intimidated than you already might… Especially with you-know-who being a total dick over there, drowning himself in a fucking milkshake.”

“I thought the machine was broken,” Ross asked, approaching with a small bat in his hands. He handed it over to Kim, who nodded and whispered a “thank you” as she picked it up and moved it from hand to hand.

“Some Westies were supposedly coming to fix it before _their_ practice started. So convenient for them.”

“Pft. It’s hard to believe that any of them know how to do that shit.”

“Nah, it’s not an actual player. Some super smart guy that’s friends with our _favorite_  member,” Ridge quipped, repeating the words that Turps had begrudgingly told him just minutes ago.

“Ugh? That Smith guy?”

“Yup. Supposed to be protection, or whatever. I’m assuming Turps got this from Nilesy, but then again, it’s Turps, he loves to “stretch” the truth.”

“Ahuh,” Ross chuckled, rolling his eyes and yawning. “Fuck, thank God we got late practice tomorrow… Kim you plan on coming?”

“She will if she makes the team,” Ridge shrugged, pulling a ball from his pocket. “Okay, c’mon.”

~~~

Duncan sat on the bleachers next to two of the other players on their team- Strippin and Benji. Those two were pretty much inseparable, claiming that they were brothers- when honestly they looked nothing alike except for the dark hair atop their heads… and the fact that the whole team knew both of their mothers.  That didn’t really matter as much, considering they were all pretty sure Benji lived at Strippin’s house, and they never pressed on the reasons assuming that they were personal.

“So Dunc, you seen her play?”

The blonde nodded. “She can hit, and run, that’s for sure.”

Strippin hummed, watching as Ridge stood with her at home plate, showing her the batting stance and how you would swing.

 

“I think Ridge planned on letting her in all along,” Benji mumbled.

“What? Really?”

The brunette nodded. “Yeah, heard Ridge talking about it with Nilesy. Said that they needed an extra member since we had been one down all season long.”

They all turned their heads towards the three people actually on the field. Ridge stood at the pitcher’s mound, Kim at home plate and Ross just on the edge of  the outfield ready to retrieve any balls that she hit. Ridge reached into the bucket besides his legs, holding it up and yelling something to Kim. The small girl wore a helmet on her head, her knees bent and elbow up just as she was told. She focused on his hand, watching as the ball was thrown towards her.

Duncan winced as it sped past her, skimming the top of her helmet and hitting the backstop- _hard_. “Aw, Kim.”

“That’s not a bad thing mate,” Strippin chuckled, nudging Duncan’s side. “Ridge always does that, it shows two things. One, that she knows when it’s a bad pitch. It was right over her head, she would’ve never been able to hit it. And two… she didn’t flinch away when the ball almost hit her. If the pitcher hits the batter, they get to walk to first base, an easy single.”

“Oh.”

Another ball was fetched from the bucket, again thrown, but this time, a perfect pitch. It was perfect level, heading straight for home plate and **CLINK**. The bat hit the ball hard, Kim’s arms jerking back with the contact, yet continuing her swing all the way through. The ball went soaring, over Ridge’s head and right past Ross’ right arm, making even him flinch away at the speed.

There were laughs heard on the field, as well as cheers as Ridge came jogging up to her. He kneeled down slightly to talk to her, his voice a murmur and a smile on both of their faces.

“That was very good,” Benji commented. “Even made Ross flinch.”

“I bet Turps is just flipping his shit right now, huh?”

Benji laughed. “It’s about time the asshole finally got his shit handed to him on a nice fucking plate.”

“ _Home_ plate.”

“Nice one, mate.”

Duncan turned his head away from the field, eyeing the snack shack that was in distance. There was a sound of clatter, a sort of banging that made his eyes narrow. He’d _never_ heard that before. Besides that, however, a figure was visible learning in the place that Turps once was. He was much taller, a head of red hair visible on his head as he watched the field intently.

“Who’s that?” The question pulled Benji and Strippin from their banter, both boys turning their heads the same direction that Duncan was looking. A look of dread filled both of their faces.

“Oh no,” Benji groaned.

“Fuck, why’s he always gotta be here?”

“Who _is_ he?”

“Alex-Fucking- Smith, the biggest prick in the whole world- lemme tell ya,” Strippin muttered under his breath.

“He’s a fucking menace, one of the worst Westies there is.”

“ _The_ worst Westie.”

“Where the fuck did Turps go, though?”

“Right here.” The voice behind them spat. The three turned back towards the field, where a very irritated Turps stood, half a bottle of Pepsi in his hand. “The fucking dick took my spot… You don’t even know the things I wanna do to his pretty little face.”

“I can have Ross go talk to him. He seems like the only one that can get him to chill the fuck out.”

“Nah, we gotta leave soon anyway. How’s Kim doing?”

The three boys turned their attention back to the newbie on the field. Ridge stood at home plate, Ross on second base, both of them holding a timer as Kim sprinted around the bases. She was extremely quick, finishing at home plate with a triumphant smile. They could hear Ridge mutter a quick,”Damn.”

“What’d she get,” Turps called towards the field, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound.

“She got fucking _14.4_ seconds,” Ridge yelled back, a huge grin on his cheeks.

“Is that good?”

“That’s pro level speed, right there,” Strippin mumbled. “Incredible.”

“Nilesy was fucking right. She hits like Ruth and she runs like Klement.”

“Who?” Duncan looked up at the three, who just started laughing at his comments.

“Baseball shit, don’t worry about it, Dunc.”

~~~

“So, what exactly is wrong with it?”

Nilesy stood in the kitchen, hovering over the boy who was at work on the side of the machine. A panel was open, exposing wires and other junk that looked awfully confusing and intimidating.

The younger boy had his eyes narrowed in concentration, a red box of tools besides him open and filled to the brim with strange things that Nilesy couldn’t even name.

“I think it’s just clogged  _really_ bad,” the boy muttered, his arm shoved into the machinery and wiggling what looked like a wrench around.

“Mm. Are you staying for practice tonight,” Nilesy hummed, grabbing the water bottle that was on the counter and taking a swig.

“Yeah,” the boy nodded, blowing the brown fringe from his eyes. “Smith doesn’t want me walking home alone at night.”

“He’s awfully protective over you.”

“Yeah… well I mean- I also didn’t want to walk home alone tonight either.”

Nilesy nodded, biting his lip and leaning his elbow on the counter as he peeked out the window of the snack shack. He could see Smith leaning against the edge of the wall, not paying any attention to them and immersed in what was going on in the field.

“Did you tell him?” Nilesy’s voice was a whisper.

Trott paused, glancing up at Nilesy before shaking his head. “Er- no…”

“You should do it sooner rather than later…”

“And risk everyone else finding out, fuck that. My last few weeks would be _miserable_.”

“I doubt he’d tell, and I mean- you shouldn’t be worried about _hia_ reaction. You’re his best friend, at least as far as I can tell.”

“Yeah, he _is_. But that doesn’t mean anything, there are people out there that have been friends with you for ages- and the second you tell ‘em something new they freak.”

Nilesy bit his lip. “I can’t deny that… but I _know_ Smith isn’t like that.”

“I don’t think he is either, but I know he’ll still be upset.”

‘“Of course he’ll be. His best friend is gonna be an East Sider, especially with the way he is with _them_.”

“What are you lot talking about?” The two looked up towards the window where Smith now was, his elbows on the counter and leaning into the window.

“I’ll tell you later,” Trott sighed. “How’s the girl doing?”

“Fucking amazing,” Smith huffed. “Can hit like Ruth and run like Klement.”

“Good enough to be ready by this Saturday?”

“Pft. Hell yeah, we are _screwed_ if Sips and Sjin fuck off again.”

“Yeah, we can’t forfeit again.”

“That rule is stupid,” the redhead huffed. “Honestly, if we are willing to play five versus seven then fucking let us. We woulda beat ‘em.”

Nilesy shrugged. “Maybe it’s because it would hurt their pride to much if a team of seven lost to a team of five.”

“It’s a stupid fucking rule.” He huffed to himself, narrowing his eyes towards the field and biting his lip. “What time is it?”

“3:58.”

“Oh yes! Time to clear these East Siders off the field."

"Smith, wait for more of your team to show up. Don't be a dick."

"Aw, it's fun though." He pursed his lips and made a pouting face.

“Aw, does Smiff want a kiss? Maybe you could go ask that boy you always say is hot-”

“SHUT IT NILES-”

“Wait what,” Trott looked up, his brow furrowed, looking between the two. “What guy?”

“No guy,” Smith shook his head.

The brunet quirked his eyebrow, staring at Nilesy for an answer that wouldn’t come.

“You’re telling me later,” Trott muttered, pointing at Smith accusingly before getting back to work. “Is he an East Sider?”

“No.”

“Nilesy? Is he an East Sider?”

Nilesy’s lips were pressed together in a thin line, his eyes drifting over to Smith whose face was flushed and looked slightly irritated.

“Alex Smith, the boy who absolutely _hates_ East Siders, thinks one of ‘em is hot,” Trott gasped, smile widening into a broad teasing grin. “Which one?”

“None of ‘em. They are all pricks.”

“Nilesy, is it the one that Smith always backs down to?”

Nilesy shrugged ominously, avoiding direct eye contact with both of them and muttering under his breath. “I dunno.”

“IT IS?”

“Shut up, Trott, please.”

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Nilesy, you know him, what’s his name,” Trott asked excitedly, the wrench he was previously using now discarded besides him.

“Uh, it’s Ro…” The dark haired boy paused, his eyes landing on something behind Smith. The redhead turned, biting his lip as he watched the East Siders leave practice, all of them chatting and laughing up until they noticed him.

Their eyes narrowed and loud conversation turned to low murmurs of bad things. Smith licked his lips, his previously flushed complexion changing to one of irritation as he stood up straighter.

  
  
“Fuck off, it’s our field now, fucking corkers.”

“We were just leaving, Smiffy, no need to get your thong in a twist.” The snide comment was made by Strippin, the boy having his arm swung protectively over Benji.

“Strippin, don’t egg him on-”

“What’d you say to me?” Smith pushed himself off the wall, his fists clenched at his sides with his brow furrowed.

“You heard me. How ‘bout you stay away from here until it’s your practice, eh?”

“How about you,” Smith started, taking a step forward towards the group that had now stopped walking. “Mind your own damn business, yeah? Was only protecting a friend, can’t trust you pricks not to hurt him.”

“Oi really? Of all the people, _we_ would aimlessly harm someone as opposed to a Westie? Now that just doesn’t seem right, does it?”

“You shut your mouth, you fucking-”

“Hey!” Ross stepped forward, putting himself in front of the rest of his group, a stern look on his face. “I’d watch your mouth, mate. Wouldn’t want to start a fight now, would you?”

“And if I did?”

Ross smirked. “Wouldn’t want to _lose_ a fight, now would you?”

“What, you think you can beat me-” Smith was about to take another step closer, but a hand was suddenly pressed into his chest and pulling him back. He turned, seeing Trott there shaking his head.

“Don’t do this, c’mon.” His voice was just a murmur, gentle and soft and somewhat calming Smith’s nerves. The redhead backed off, glaring one last time at Ross before turning completely and allowing Trott to guide him back towards the snack shack where Nilesy was standing, looking like he was ready to hop out the window to stop whatever was about to happen.


	2. Chapter 2

“Where’s Sips and Sjin?”

“Probably snogging at the back of the snack shack again, you know how they are,” a shorter boy muttered, standing just besides the blonde that had a piece of paper in his hand, as well as a bucket of baseballs. His hair was dark, his glasses pushed on his nose and his brow furrowed as he tried to follow what was written on the paper.

“Hmph.” The blond scribbled something down, biting his lip as he did so. “And Parvis? Where’d he go?”

“Saw him with a milkshake talking with Trott and Nilesy,” Smith spoke up, standing in front of the two with his arms crossed over his chest. Besides him, another blond boy stood, his hair short and wearing his infamous green t-shirt.

“PARVIS,” the boy with the paper suddenly screamed, his deep voice sounding intimidating, but nonetheless smooth in their ears.

“Do you really think he heard you, Will?”

“Pft, of course he did.” Lewis scoffed, staring up from the paper, pointing towards the snack shack where the faint sound of footsteps being heard got louder and louder. “That boy would follow you anywhere, Strife.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey guys!” There was a shout from behind them, echoing off of the empty space in the park. It was the familiar voice, and it didn’t surprise any of them when Sjin came skipping towards the field, Sips trailing behind him.

“Where the fuck were you guys,” Strife yelled.

“Busy,” Sips shrugged, a small grin spreading across his face that resembled a smirk as he swung his arm over Sjin’s shoulder.

“Someone looks pleased with themselves,” Martyn huffed, nudging Smith with his elbow and sending both of them into a fit of chuckles.

“Oh shut it, you’re all just jealous because you don’t have anybody,” Sjin huffed, standing on the other side of Smith. He crossed his arms over his chest, pulling a pout.

“I have a girlfriend, actually, and I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between Strife and Parv.” A sly grin hung on Lewis’ lips.

“That’s right,” Parv smiled brightly, wrapping his arm around Strife and pulling him into a sort of side hug that the blond awkwardly reprocricated.

“Right anyway, Sips and Sjin,” Will started, staring at the two. “You better fucking be here on Saturday, last game we had to fucking forfeit because of you two.”

“Aww c’mon, Will,” Sips chuckled. “You can’t blame me for that.”

“Can’t I?”

“Honestly, if we lose again because of it I’m finding both of you and cutting your lips off so you can’t snog any more,” Smith murmured, a sort of bitterness in his voice. “Plus they got a new member, even faster than Martyn.”

“What,” the blond squeaked in outrage. “Impossible, I got 15.3 seconds!”

“She got 14.4.”

“ _She_?”

Smith nodded.

“Well fuck,” Strife muttered. “Everyone take a lap, I guess we can practice catching and throwing. Sjin- you and I practice pitching and Sips you be catcher, alright?”

~~~

“Hello, Ms.Trott!”

The house was warm compared to the chilly night. It felt so nice and comforting, like nice warm blankets that anyone could cuddle into and never want to leave. The smell of cinnabuns wafted in the air, making both of the boys’ mouths water as they walked inside.

The woman who stood at the counter, a plate with the delicious pastries in her hand looked up.

“Oh Alex, I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.” Her hair was a deep brown, a bit darker than Trott’s, but her eyes were almost exactly the same as his.

“Do you mind?”

“Oh not at all, you’re always welcome.” She smiled brightly, yet the way her eyes shifted over to her son seemed to betray her otherwise happy face.

“Right, well, we’re gonna be upstairs, mum,” Trott smiled, grabbing Smith’s wrist and dragging him towards the stairs of his home. At the top of the stairs, he made a quick right, pulling Smith into the door at the end of the corridor and closing the door behind him.

His room was more of a loft than anything. Instead of being on the sexond story of the house, he was technically on the third. Luckily the roof wasn’t very slanted, otherwise Smith wouldn’t be able to stand very well. The walls were a light blue color, covered in posters of different video games and various heavy metal bands. There was also a small corner where there were various pictures taped up, mostly of Trott and Smith, and some of their other friends. A bed was pushed up against the wall, right underneath the window that overlooked the street. On the opposite wall, a TV screen was positioned, with a coffee table and burgundy couch in front of it.

“Jesus Christ, Trott. I wanted a cinnabun,” the redhead whined, smiling as he plopped onto the bed with a pout on his lips.

“You can have one later, we need to talk,” the brunet muttered, avoiding Smith’s gaze as he stood in front of him.

The other boy’s brow furrowed, suddenly worried by his friend’s obvious nervousness. “Is it something bad?”

Trott bit his lip, sighing as he nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted.

The redhead nodded, licking his lips and tapping his fingers on his knees. “Are- are you gonna tell me what it is?”

“I don’t want you to be mad.”

“I won’t be.”

“You _will_ be.”

“It would never make me mad at _you_ , though, if that’s what you are worried about,” the redhead muttered. “It’s not like primary school, I won’t “not be your friend anymore”. ”

“You might not be,” Trott murmured.

“Doubt it,” Smith scoffed, looking up at Trott who still stood awkwardly in front of him. He twiddled his thumbs and he seemed so fidgety. “Trott- _Chris_ , I solemnly promise that nothing will ever break up our friendship. Now c’mon.” He patted the seat next to him, a comforting smile tugging at his lips.

Trott sighed, walking forward and plopping down next to Smith. The boy focused on his hands, avoiding Smith’s gaze which was burning into his skull. Despite this, he found himself burrowing into his side, enjoying the warmth of him and the comfort that accompanied it. He was so familiar, the way he wrapped his arm around him and smelled so nice.

He took a deep breath. “I’m moving.” The words were uttered so quickly, falling from his lips in a rush and setting Smith’s mind ablaze.

Moving wasn’t necessarily terrible, being that usually moving meant maybe going a block or two away. But he wasn’t stupid, he _knew_ that wasn’t the case. He _knew_ why this was so bad.

“Oh.” He did feel the anger boiling inside of him, the heat that formed in his stomach and made his throat feel dry. Despite this he held the feeling down, staying silent and waiting for Trott to continue.

“See, you _are_ upset,” Trott sighed. He could feel Smith visibly stiffen the way he adjusted and the way he somehow seemed to get warmer.

“Not at you, though.”

Trott sighed. “We are still friends then?”

“Of course.”

“Good. You can still come over.”

“Yeah, I’ll just sneak around all of the East Siders and hope they don’t see the giant redhead walking through their neighborhood to go to your house. I’ll take the risk of death for you, mate,” Smith smiled.

“Aw, really? Thanks, mate,” Trott chuckled.

“Just, don’t tell any of the guys just yet, okay?”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

The brunet laughed lightly, elbowing Smith in the side. That went /better/ than expected.

~~~

“Hey batter batter!”

Smith gained a dirty look from every person sitting in the dugout on the right side of the field, all of their eyes narrowed and mouths moving in murmurs of what he knew were insults. He chuckled, looking back towards where the home plate is and a short dark-haired girl stood.

He had to give them props, she looked serious. Her knees were bent, her right elbow up and her eyes focused on William who stood at the pitching mound. The rest of the team was spread out in the field behind them. Smith took out field behind second base as always, with Sips standing in front of him with his glove hanging at his side. Sjin was set at first base, and Martyn at third. Parv stood further out in the field, in between first and second base with Lewis mirroring him on the otherside.

Today was another one of those particularly hot days. As the school year seemed to end, so did the spring and the nice cool weather which particularly affected Smith and Lewis. Both of them sniffled and sneezed constantly during this season, especially out in the field, but they were the best catchers and so they always took up the positions on outfield. But luckily it was almost summer, and so allergies would be traded for unforgiving heat.

Trott still sat in the stands, in the corner so that the shade from a tree would cover him. He pressed himself into the corner so he could have two sides of support from the bleachers. Beneath him, a group of girls had gathered from the school to watch, although Trott honestly wasn’t interested. A blonde girl known as Hannah was standing by the fence, her fingers clenched on the chain link as she watched the game with interest.

In the stands behind the East Sider dugout, Duncan sat, along with another girl who chatted along with him quietly. She was frequently there, usually came and left with Rythian. Duncan however was a new sight, and got strange looks from some regulars that always stopped by.

Besides that, the park was relatively empty. Despite the town’s particular interest in the sport, nobody besides the few that were gathered were _that_ into it. As far as the rest of Europe was concerned, baseball was just some boring American sport. In fact, the town wouldn’t even be interested in it nor have such a huge rivalry if it wasn’t for when Ridge and Strife’s families that moved in. Their older siblings brought the sport, and you could say that this was a sort of second generation of the tradition.

Besides the rush of the wind and the occasional sound of cleats scraping on the dirt, it was absolutely silent. A tense feeling hung in the air as everyone watched and waited for the pitch.

Will took a breath, taking a step forward as he suddenly swung his arm and threw the ball towards home base. Everyone held their breaths as the ball rocketed towards Kim, and everyone let the same breath out when the small girl swung and the bat hit the ball right in the middle with a loud clunk.

The ball surged forwards with the force of the hit propelling it. It was way past William, and way past Sips, heading straight for Smith with top speeds. He could already hear the bat clanking to the ground and the thudding of Kim's shoes as they scraped across the reddish dirt of the diamond.

He held his mitt out as he side stepped towards the right, his other hand ready to cup the ball and throw it towards second base where he had a feeling that Kim was already heading for.

He heard cheers, and he heard shouting from both sides. There were shouts of "Go Kim, Go!" as well as," Catch the fucking ball!"

And he did, he caught it, the hard ball hitting his glove with a thunk. But the second it arrived it was already leaving, slipping from Smith's grasp as he attempted to close the mitt. The attempt failed and the ball hit the grass.

There was the sound of shocked gasped, both happy and sad. He leaned down as quickly as possible, grasping the ball in his right hand and chucking it to third base where Kim was quickly approaching.

The second it left his hands there were shouts from the East Side to "stop at third!" And she did. She skidded to a halt right on the base, leaning down as she did so and taking a deep shuddering breath of relief. Martyn caught the ball like he was born to do it, and threw it just the same way back to home.

"Smiffy! What the fuck was that," Sips dawled with a chuckle, looking back at the redhead who looked as shocked as the rest of the team did.

"Lucky fucking hit," Smith scoffed, glaring over at Kim who was facing her dugout. She had a huge smile on her face, and was waving towards everyone who was cheering and shouting.

"Did you get distracted since something other than a penis was running around on the field," Parvis shouted with a giggle from his left.

"Shut up, stare at Strife's ass a little longer, will ya," the redhead huffed, earning a sour look from the blonde and a pout from the dark-haired boy.

"I will," Parv huffed.

"Oi, ladies!" There was a shout from the East Sider dugout, from a brunet that went by the name of Turps. He waved his hands to get their attention. "Maybe he's so grumpy because Trotty has been giving him the cold shoulder! Has he not let you fuck him in awhile?"

"You shut your mouth," Smith yelled, pointing towards him. "I'm not afraid to go over there and rip your fucking dick off!"

"Sorry, this zone has a strict rule against corkers entering the dugout," Turps laughed.

"Then why the fuck are you in there, Mark," Lewis shot back. "Maybe if you shut up every once and awhile, you'd learn some things and actually help your team."

"Yeah! I'd be happy to give you a little lesson in batting your fucking head in, if you'd like," Smith called out.

****  


“Just shut up, all of you,” Ridge silenced them, glaring back towards his own team. He pointed to Ross who sat along the metal bench, a water bottle clutched in his hand. He seemed to murmur something, Ross standing afterwards and setting the water bottle on the bench. He grabbed a bat, and headed towards home plate.

Smith internally groaned. If he fucked this one up, he would surely get it. No. He couldn’t let that happen. His eyes focused on Will, following his arm, and then the ball that left it, hurdling towards Ross.

The dark-haired boy swung, tipping it just on the edge and sending it behind him. There were whoops from the field, and “shake it off”s from the dugout, and despite their encouraging words they sounded irritated.

The boy sighed, stepping away from the plate and wiping his brow with his arm. He spit out a sunflower seed beside him, and scraped his cleats twice on the dirt before returning to his position. He bent his knees, held up his elbow, and trained his eye on the ball.

There was another pitch, and another hit, this time going forward with a cheeky bump. There were shouts of encouragement from the East Side’s dugout as he sprinted towards first base, while Will sprinted forward to grab the ball. He immediately spun on his heels as he did so, passing it back to second plate where Ross was just about to hit.

He saw it coming, and took a leap of faith, sliding along the dirt and nudging Sip’s ankles with his foot as he did so. Sips caught the ball just a second late, much to the dismay of the West Side and the joy of the East Side. While this was going on, Kim had made it all the way to home plate, turning and flipping everyone off as she did so with a proud look upon her cheeks.

The East Siders chanted “Go Kim” as Ross stood, dusting himself off and stepping to the right side of Sips, ignoring the glare he got from the other fielders. His left foot stayed on the plate, his right one planted down on the dusty floor, ready to take off with the next hit.

Smith gulped, taking the chance to admire the boy’s ass that was covered in dirt. He smirked to himself, imagining dirty things as the East Siders sent out their next batter.

~~~

“Nice game,” Trott nudged Smith’s side with his elbow, smiling up at the redhead brightly.

Smith returned the smile, swinging his arm over the boys shoulder. “Thanks.”

“I saw you checking out the guy’s ass,” the brunet chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows at Smith.

“Cannot deny.” Smith smirked. “It was quite the sight.”

 

“Maybe I can befriend him when I move,” Trott shrugged. “Then you guys can get together…?”

“Fuck that, no way,” Smith shook his head. The sound of cars whooshing past on the sidewalk made him look away momentarily. The sun was just setting, painting the sky in reds and oranges and yellows, the darkness creeping up from the horizon. “No East Siders. I refuse to be near them.”

“Well, I mean, you are gonna meet some of them eventually. ‘m afraid you can’t avoid meeting your best friend’s, other best friend.”

“I’m always gonna be your best mate, bottom line. Don’t go replacing me with some pretty boy, alright,” Smith grumbled.

“We’ll see,” Trott hummed. “Honestly, I’m sure if it was him, you can get along. Maybe you can kiss him a little bit too.”

“Doubt he swings that way,” Smith chuckled.

“You never know, I mean, from first glance at you, you look like a pretty straight fellow. In reality, you’d swing at anything that would let you,” Trott laughed. “Remember that chick at the beach? And then that guy at the amusement park? And then that one person, they- don’t they go to our school?”

Smith nodded. “Yeah, they don’t talk to me anymore. Apparently, I am ‘too much of an asshole’ to be friends with.”

“Hmmm… That’s true… Maybe I shouldn’t hang out with you anymore.”

“Pft,” the redhead scoffed. “You love me, Trotty, you’d never leave.”

“If you value our friendship that much, then maybe you’d consider trying to be nice for once? I mean, eventually everyone is gonna know that I switch schools. I mean, I’ll still go neutral, but… maybe it’s a chance for us to fix this shit-”

“I don’t want to fix it,” Smith interuptted. “It’s like this for a reason.”

“A stupid reason.”

“A stupid reason that killed someone, and got two people locked up for eternity… yeah _real_ stupid.” Smith pulled his arm off of Trott’s shoulders, instead shoving it into his pocket.

“Oh, you know that’s not what I meant Smith,” the brunet huffed. “I’m just saying, these are different people. I would totally understand being pissed off at the other guy, but… these people have _nothing_ to do with it.”

“They _know_ what happened.”

“Doubt it. You know how they are! They are rich pricks, too self-absorbed to talk to their children about their history and educate them to be a bit nicer.”

“Exactly,” Smith sighed.

“No,” Trott shook his head. “That isn’t their fault that the rich people just hid it away, paid everything off. This is the other generations’ fault for being massive, selfish pricks.”

“They didn’t even say sorry,” Smith sighed, biting his lip. “C-can we drop it?”

Trott nodded. “You wanna help us move into the new house in a couple days?”

Smith shrugged. “Sure. But- I might have to hide in the house.”

“Honestly, I probably won’t help much. We can just hangout in the empty space for awhile, maybe help me unpack?”

  
“Sure, let the moving guys do all of the work.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey.”

Trott looked at the boy warily. He had a nice smile on his face, as well as what looked like a platter of brownies in his hands. His dark hair was short, somewhat spiked in the front. The brunet immediately recognized him as the boy that Smith had a thing for.

Trott and his mother had just finished getting all of the boxes in their proper place at the house. Everything  was still a mess, though,  and at the moment they were living off of take away and taking their clothes out of boxes as opposed to wardrobes.

“H-hello,” Trott spoke cautiously, his statement ending in a question.

“Uh, sorry for… bothering you. My mum wanted me to bring you brownies to… welcome you to our neighborhood.” He held the platter out in front of Trott.

Trott took it in his own hands. “Thanks, that’s really nice.”

“Yeah… I mean.. not a lot of other people our age live around here. My mum had spied you guys pulling up outside, mentioned there being a ‘cute boy that moved in next door’,” he scoffed, shaking his head.

Trott quirked an eyebrow. “Should I be worried about your mother,” he chuckled somewhat awkwardly.

The boy’s electric blue eyes widened. “Oh- uh, n-no. She wanted me to uh- she wants her gay son to finally get a boyfriend…”

“Oh,” Trott laughed. “Well sorry mate, don’t swing that way.”

“Figured as much,” the boy shrugged. “And you aren’t my type anyway.”

Trott laughed. “ ‘m not many peoples’ type so…” He considered asking if his type was redheaded pricks, but decided against it. Smith would murder him.

“I’m Ross, by the way. I’m assuming you’ll go to the school, like, right over there.” The boy gestured behind him awkwardly.

“I’m Chris Trott, call me Trott. And yeah, I’ll be going there.”

“Trott? Weren’t you… weren’t you at our game a couple days ago,” Ross questioned.

Trott bit his lip. “Er, yeah…”

“And you were… with… That Smith guy- wait- holy shit I know you! You are the only one on the planet that I’ve seen that’s able to control that asshole,” Ross laughed, although his smile immediately shifted from his face with realization. “Oh crap, you’re a Westie?”

The brunet sighed. “Yeah… I mean, listen- I can’t exactly defend myself… so I’m just gonna shut the door before you and your friends come to beat me up, alright? Thanks for the brownies though-”

“Hold on a minute, what are you talking about? Why… Why would I ever do that? And why would I ever mention it to the other guys?”

Trott shrugged. “Just figured.”

Ross shook his head. “Nah, mate. I’m not like that… neither are the other guys. Even if they were, I wouldn’t let them beat you up.”

“Wh-why? I don’t really… er- know you at all?”

Ross shrugged. “I like you, you seem like a cool guy. Plus, another person on this street so that all of the babysitting isn’t immediately pushed on me. You’re a lifesaver, mate.”

Trott laughed. “Oh, well… that’s… thanks?”

“Why don’t you come over in like an hour? We can play video games or, whatever.”

Trott bit his lip. Smith will _not_ be happy. “Sure.”

~~~

“You know, the rest of the guys make you out to be terrible people,” Ross chuckled. “You really aren’t too terrible.”

“Thanks, mate. You either, only _slightly_  terrible.”

“Slightly,” Ross scoffed. He continued to randomly mash the buttons on the controller, somehow gaining a lead in Mortal Kombat over Trott.

“You’re such a button-mashing prick,” Trott muttered, elbowing the taller boy in the side and trying to get him to mess up. The brunet had actually bothered to memorize some of the combos of different characters.

Ross laughed. “Yeah, well, you’re such a fucking nerd for actually memorizing this shit, and playing so much.”

Trott rolled his eyes. “This from the guy who is fucking addicted to Fifa.”

“Oi! For the record- I haven’t played that game in two weeks…”

“Ahuh,” Trott laughed, shaking his head.

They sat in silence for a bit, the game sound being drowned out by Ross’ button-mashing habits. Trott continued to elbow Ross, and nudging him with his knee to fuck him up. Ross didn’t bother, figuring that he could easily knock Trott over and win the game if he tried.

“I still want you to meet Smith, you know,” Trott spoke.

Ross winced at the name. “I’m not so sure I do, though, honestly.”

“He’s not _that_ bad,” Trott murmured.

“Why do I feel like you are lying?”

“I’m not, it’s just- I think, that if you both got to know each other, you would be really good friends.”

Ross snorted. “Mate, don’t be like my mum, setting me up with random people. At least she didn’t try to set me up with a Westie.”

“Actually, your mum tried to set you up with me, I’m a Westie,” Trott laughed.

“ _Used_ to be,” Ross corrected. “Right? You told me you were going neutral now, like Nilesy.”

“Ahuh,” he hummed.

“You can be an extra peacekeeper, or some shit like that. Be a gossip boy like good ol’ Nilesenator,” Ross chuckled.

“Oh God, don’t give in to his stupid nickname.”

“Mate, support your local therapist, especially when he’s one that you can always rely on.”

“True… But, I’m serious. If I invite Smith over tomorrow… would you be up for coming over and meeting him?”

“Maybe,” Ross shrugged.

~~~

“When’s he supposed to be here,” Ross asked, for the millionth time that day.

“I swear if you ask again I’ll let him kill you,” Trott groaned. “He’s notoriously late, just give him another ten minutes.”

“Listen, I’d rather get this over with, alright? I have a feeling the meeting won’t be too smooth…”

“Me neither, but at least next time it’ll be better,” Trott shrugged.

“Next time?! I never agreed to a next time, Trott!” Ross stared at him quizzically. He sat at the counter in the kitchen, a half eaten sandwich in his hand.

Trott rolled his eyes. “Just chill Ross, he’s not-” The brunet was cut off by a loud knock at the door. A smile spread across Trott’s face, as he looked at Ross with a smug look. “Oh look, he’s here.”

Ross sighed. “I’m not moving.”

Trott went to the door, opening the door and smiling at the taller boy in the doorway.

“Trott,” the boy smiled thankfully, shaking his red hair out of his face. “Let me in, hurry, before some prick spots me outside your door.”

Trott stepped aside, allowing Smith to step in.

“Wow, your house looks nice with all of this furniture… Is it all new?”

Trott nodded. “Yeah, my mom went shopping the other day.” He continued down the hallway, leading Smith towards the kitchen where Ross still was.

He was standing now, looking slightly nervous with his hands in his pockets. When he saw Smith, he nearly looked like he might faint.   
  


“H-hey,” the dark-haired boy waved, awkwardly smiling. “Nice to meet you?”

Smith stood behind Trott, narrowing his eyes and looking Ross up and down. He wasn’t sure what exactly put him off. Whether it was the way his clothes looked much nicer than his own, or maybe the way he was being so nice. Or maybe it was the fact that he looked like a genuine guy, and Smith honestly didn’t feel too terrible being near him (although he would never admit that).

Trott looked back at him expectantly, although no nice words of greeting were spared from his lips. The brunet rolled his eyes, letting out a disappointed sigh before looking back towards Ross.

“At least _someone_ , was trying.”

“I can hear you,” Smith muttered. “I’d rather you not compare me to this prick.”

“Smith, come on,” Trott whined. “Can you just, _not_?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do what you are wanting me to do, Trott. It’s not my fault.”

“It totally fucking is,” the brunet shook his head. “One fucking thing, Smith. Just say ‘Hello, my name is Alex Smith. I’m a massive prick. I’m just going to not be a massive prick for once, _just_ to make my best friend happy’.”

He turned back towards the redhead. “ _Why_? Why do you act like this? Why do you act so nice?”

“Why _don't_ you?”

Trott groaned. “I can’t fucking deal with you right now,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “Let’s just play some fucking video games.”

~~~

“You ever play video games before, Ross?”

Ross huffed, his brow furrowing as he continued to play the game. He was currently losing to Trott, just barely though. They were in the middle of a Smash Bros game, and he honestly wasn’t doing terrible. Probably better than Smith could.

After twenty minutes of hearing him insult all East Siders on the planet, and even some jabs at his family, the redhead seemed to be moving on to more personal remarks.

“Hey, Ross, not gonna talk to me?”

“Smith, shut up,” Trott interrupted. “Leave the poor guy alone, alright? You’ve done enough.”

“Really? I don’t think I have,” the redhead laughed, leaning back on the couch with a smug grin on his face. His arms were behind his head, and he looked between Ross’ obvious frustration and the game.

There was another beat of blessed silence, before Smith spoke again.

“I’m sorry Ross, really. I shouldn’t have such high expectations from a pretty boy like you.”

Ross bit his lip, his fingers tensing on the controller.

“Trott, after you thoroughly beat his ass at this, maybe we can switch to something easier. Maybe we can play some Wii? Play a bit of Mario Party, that way Ross can actually keep up.”

Trott sighed, scooting away from Smith and sparing a glance over at Ross. He had taken up a spot on the couch, crowded into the corner and avoiding both of their gazes. His face was bright red, out of embarrassment and possible anger. He was almost trembling, obviously holding back a sort of rage that Trott was somewhat thankful for. At least Ross has some self control, unlike Smith.

“Or maybe, I can teach him how to play some baseball-”

“Don’t fucking even, Smith, honestly,” Trott interrupted again.

“What? I’m trying to be nice… Give the pretty boy some lessons in how to hit a ball… maybe run a bit better... maybe not catch or throw like a girl.”

“Kim can probably throw better than you,” Ross mumbled, gaining a sudden burst of confidence.

“Oi? What’d you say?”

“Nothing,” Ross huffed.

“Nah, tell me, mate. Tell me.”

“No.”

“What? You realize how wrong you were? You realize that there was no point in saying such a blatant fucking lie.”

Ross rolled his eyes.

“Maybe, he was saying it out of spite? Maybe a little bit of envy of my skills, skills that he won’t have… Maybe if you just… stopped being such a fucking corker-”

“Watch. It.”

“Maybe _you_ should watch the ball more… you know, I’m starting to think your gaming skills and batting skills might correlate a bit…”

Trott turned back towards Smith. “Just, honestly Smith, shut up.”

“Or maybe it’s because a pretty boy like you can’t play sports-”

“You know what, fuck this.” Ross slammed his controller on the coffee table, turning to face Smith. “Make one more fucking remark about me or my friends, and I’m going to punch you in the fucking face.”

His face was flushed red, and his other fist he wasn’t pointing at Smith was clenched by his side. “I have taken, a ton of shit from you, for no fucking reason! I have been all, but rude, and honestly, fuck this whole: oh let me just be an asshole to me, just try to please Trott. No. Fuck that.” He looked down at Trott. “I’m sorry, I _can't_ fucking take this,” he shook his head. “He has insulted me, my family, my friends! I mean, Jesus Fucking Christ! What’s next? Is he gonna call me a fag? Is he gonna beat me up for liking guys? I’m not fucking doing this!”

Trott opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. He sighed, averting his gaze from Ross’ angry glare. He tried to smother it behind guilt when he looked down at the brunet, but it was apparent how pissed off he was and honestly done with the redhead.

“Take a fucking joke, mate,” Smith rolled his eyes.

“Take a fucking hint to SHUT THE FUCK UP,” Ross screamed. “Fuck, you Westies are really assholes, huh? And It just seems like I’ve got to deal with the worst of ‘em!”

“Whatever…”

“Don’t fucking ‘whatever’ me like you don’t fucking care! Stop not caring or giving a shit about anyone, huh? Maybe then Trott wouldn’t be talking so much shit on you… and maybe we wouldn’t be either.”

“Oi! I didn’t do shit to you and your friends,” the redhead objected.

“Oh yeah,” Ross laughed sarcastically. “ Wanna tell some more fucking lies?”

“This coming from _you_ of all people? An East Sider? An East Sider, that knows what they FUCKING DID,” Smith screamed, standing up. “We didn’t do fuck all to you, the only reason I’m just an ass to you guys is because you rich fucks deserve it.”

“Hey, buddy boy, your little boyfriend over here is a rich fuck now, how does that feel? You gonna be a total prick to him? Oh wait- you already are! He had _one fucking request_ , that you weren’t an asshole. And look, no, just fucking think about how you are fucking acting.”

“What? Are you my mum? ‘Think about how you are acting’,” Smith chuckled sarcastically. “Fuck you, mate.”

“Go fuck Trott,” Ross huffed. “I’m fucking leaving.”

“Good, you are stinking up the fucking air. I’m suffocating over here,” Smith called over his shoulder, not even watching as Ross stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him and proceeding to stomp down the stairs.

Trott sat silently, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“See, Trott, I fucking told you what assholes they are-”

“What the hell is wrong with you,” Trott asked. His voice was surprisingly calm, although it cracked a bit.

“Huh?”

“Just… Just fucking leave, Smith.”

“What? What the hell did I do?”

“The fact that you can’t get your obnoxious head out of your ass, is enough for me to kick you out of my fucking house.” The brunet paused, turning towards the redhead. “Now just fucking leave, before I start yelling.”

Smith sat there in disbelief for a moment.

“You’re kidding?”

Trott shook his head, averting his gaze. He pointed towards the door, refusing to say a word and to stare into Smith’s face. The redhead’s gaze softened.

“T-Trott?”

“Leave.” His voice was a croaky mess at this point, and Smith knew Trott well enough to know when he was on the verge of tears.

Suddenly, he seemed to take a hint. He stood up, and left.

~~~

Trott groaned, awakened by the sound of his phone ringing on his table. He had fallen asleep early last night. Whether it was from exhaustion or stress, or maybe even both, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he needed to sleep and so he did.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his glasses on the nightstand next to his bed. After he slipped them on, he reached for his phone, unlocking it and see two sets of texts.

_From Alex Smith:_

__

_I’m rlly rlly srry for yesterday. im an ass im so srry_

_From Ross:_

__

_Hey are you alright? sorry about yesterday I shouldnt have said anything_

He groaned again, out of annoyance and frustration from the memories that flooded back from the night before. He decided to reply to Ross first.  
  


_To Ross:_

__

_I’m fine. I honestly don’t blame you, Smith was being a total dick._

He sat there for a bit, pulling his legs out of his covers to hang over the edge of the mattress. The brunet wasn’t sure of what to say to Smith, whether he should even try to talk to him and invite him over to speak, or just ignore him. Of course he could, being that it wasn’t like they went to the same school anymore.

But Smith would come back, probably today and if not, tomorrow. Smith got terribly guilty when he fucked up, and would literally not leave people alone until he feels like they have forgiven him.

_To Smith:_

__

_You should be sorry, honestly. You were such a fucking dick to Ross. He tried to be nice to you, and you insulted him. I thought you liked him. What happened?_

__

He sighed, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. He might as well go over to Ross’.

~~~

“You know, I should be apologizing to you, not you to me.”

Ross shrugged. “You told us to get along, and instead I sort of made a big deal of it.”

“But, you _should_ have done that, because Smith was being an ass.”

“But you told us-”

“But nothing,” Trott huffed. “Listen, this isn’t your fault. It’s Smith’s… he holds grudges for things that he shouldn’t even care about.”

Ross’ brow furrowed. “Grudges?”

“Personal shit, don’t worry about it,” Trott sighed, shaking his head. Ross nodded, watching as the brunet turned and started looking at his pictures.

He knew the question before it was asked. Everybody always asked. Ross answered before he could even get the words out. “That’s my brother,” he explained, walking behind Trott and pointing towards one of the pictures.

There was a boy, who looked just older than Ross. His hair was dark like Ross’, but his eyes were dark as well. His smile was bright, and there was a small infant on his lap. “That’s me,” Ross pointed to the baby, smiling.

“You’ve never mentioned your brother,” Trott murmured. “Does he not live with you guys?”

Ross shook his head. “Er, no… he was sent to jail when I was little. Still there, I guess.”

“Oh, well that sucks.”

“Well, he’s in jail for a reason, so, I guess it’s better he’s getting what he deserves,” Ross muttered, seemingly unphased by it.

“See, I wish Smith would be more like you with these subjects.”

“Yeah, but they are touchy for some people, depending on the situation,” the dark-haired boy explained. “I bet Smith’s situation is a lot shittier than mine…”

“I don’t think it is,” the brunet chuckled. “It’s quite similar, actually… what did your brother do?”

“Dunno, my parents won’t tell me. Then again, don’t really care. He seemed like a great brother when I was two, but… I wouldn’t really know. Even the scariest people in the world can be nice to children, I don’t remember him much,” Ross continued with a sigh. “It really didn’t seem to phase my parents much, either.”

Trott nodded. “That’s good, that you guys moved on.”

“Yeah, I’m assuming that what he did was pretty bad if my parents seem to act like he deserves being locked up.”

“Probably is… Ross, did you tell me your last name?”

“Uh… maybe? Why?”

“Just wondering… curious.”

“Well, don’t laugh or make a joke… but it’s Hornby. Ross Hornby.”

Trott smiled, but didn’t make any jokes. “Course I won’t.” Despite this, the name sounded familiar in all the wrong ways.

~~~

“So, Ross said he would be up with hanging out again… _if_ -”

Smith interrupted him with an irritated groan, leaning back on his elbows that were pressed onto the counter tops.

“...you promise not to be a dick.”

“Define ‘not to be a dick’,” Smith pressed.

Trott sighed. “Don’t insult him, or his family, or anybody okay? Or just try not to do what you did last time? That was fucking harsh mate.”

“Wasn’t _that_ bad,” Smith murmured defensively.

“Mate, you got _Ross_ pissed off. And Ross is a pretty chill guy, or at least won’t get upset like _that_.”

The redhead rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever… I’ll try not to…”

“Thank you, Smith. Honestly, I just want you two to get along.”

“I still don’t understand why, though.”

Trott groaned. “Because he is my only East Sider friend that will protect me, from the others. Believe it or not, Smith, but he’s the one that’s gonna be my guard now.”

“Guard? What’s that supposed to mean,” the boy muttered suspiciously.

“You know perfectly well what it means, Mr. I-Must-Watch-Trott-At-All-Times-If-He-Steps-A-Foot-Outdoors.”

“Haha, shut up,” the boy deadpanned, shoving at the brunet.

“You know it’s true.”

“Is not.”

“Mate, you acted like I was worth a million bucks.”

“Nah, Trotty. You’re priceless to me,” the boy grinned, gritting his teeth as he spoke.

**  
**“Ew, gross. Don’t get all flirty with me, mate. I’m not interested in your dick.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MWAHAHA I got the spacing thing fixed now it doesn't look like shit yaaaaaay!

No, he was absolutely sure this was different. Trott sat in the middle of them, his whole attention absorbed into the movie they were watching. Honestly, it really wasn’t his thing per say. He wasn’t a real: let’s sit down for two hours and watch pictures on screen kind of guy, but when he was, he would much rather be watching a horror movie than this rom con.

He would’ve complained, honestly, if not for the way Trott looked so happy and content sitting there. The brunet looked relaxed for the first time in a while, his body slumping back into the cushions. It was hard to miss the way he was most definitely curled just slightly into Smith’s side.

Trott _had_  told him before how close they were, but honestly this was a whole level of close he had never experienced before besides with some guys he used to pick up from the field. It was quite easy to “woo” anyone that stopped by the baseball field (although mostly girls seemed to take more interest in him and that was always a bit annoying). Especially when Ross would walk up to them in his uniform with a baseball bat on his shoulder. That sort of thing usually got him some sort of attention.

All of that aside, this was very different. Smith’s arm was most definitely swung behind Trott’s back, and if he wasn’t mistaken their knees were touching and bumping into each other as they watched the movie. For some reason the thought made him feel sick, made his stomach churn and breathing suddenly become a bit harder.

He dared to study Smith’s face. He had Westie written all over him, honestly. The way the confidence practically radiated off him, clogging up the whole room and making Ross feel so small. His red curls of hair were a mess, up close at least that was apparent. And despite that, Ross felt that it suited him well. His eyes were a very pretty shade of blue, light and fluffy and making Ross feel just slightly fuzzy.

Not only did he notice that, but he also noticed how his eyes definitely weren’t locked onto the screen as Trott’s were. They were traveling all around the room, scanning over everything  _except_  for the TV which Trott seemed so engrossed in.

_So that’s the kind of relationship they have_ , Ross thought to himself. It sure did look romantic to him, but he knew that wasn’t possible. He figured it was like a sort of brother relationship. Smith would definitely be the older brother, not just because he was much taller than Trott, but because he seemed to be the one sacrificing for the other. Even if it wasn’t much, just a stupid movie, it was apparent that Smith had done this sort of thing often and hadn’t given it a second thought.

For a moment he wondered why, biting his lip and studying Smith. He had always taken the man for a complete asshole, despite all of Nilesy’s reassurances that he _wasn’t_ , and just now his opinion of the redhead seemed to shift. There was obviously a reason he wasn’t an asshole to Trott, nor to all of his friends over on the West Side. And Ross realized that, yes, obviously he would be friendly with his own side. But this was almost too much friendly, and it showed a very tight friendship wound between all of them.

As he thought about it, he realized that his relationship with the team and everyone else, wasn’t like this. Sure they were friends, but when they went home that was that. The only ones he could think of that truly stayed together were Benji and Strippin, and Kim and Duncan. He was fairly sure they were the kind of friends that would go over to each other’s house nearly everyday just to hang out. He had, had people over before too, but he didn’t dare to get to the point where they were “cuddling.”

Something must’ve happened. Which yes, would make sense. For Strippin and Benji, all of them knew they were close friends, and they all had made assumptions of why Benji lived with Strippin, but none of them dared to press. It was just one of those things that nobody did, because it was extremely rude. And by nobody, that excluded Turps. Of course Turps was the first and last to ask, possibly due to the black eye that he got from Strippin’s fist. Kim and Duncan, on the other hand, had just seemed impossibly close. They always were together at school, always together on their way home. Of course neither of them were known in primary school, but it was possible that something happened then.

Then again, something happened to  _everyone_  in primary school. Perhaps that was the reason why the Westies were so close.

Ross was pulled out of his daze when Trott had started laughing, his smile wide and eyes crinkled as he stared at the screen. He looked back at Smith, who wasn’t laughing and instead was staring directly at himself.

Ross gulped, quickly looking back towards the screen to avoid his gaze, although he could still feel it burning into his head. It really wasn’t easy to ignore, and when Trott untangled himself from Smith’s grasp and stood up, he almost felt like he might cry out of pity for himself.

“Alright lads, I gotta go to the bathroom, and then Ross you can pick a movie. This one is getting a bit terrible,” Trott chuckled, patting Ross’ shoulder before walking past him towards the door in his room where the bathroom was.

The dark-haired boy gulped, looking back over towards Smith. The teen’s jaw was clenched, his eyes looking up and down Ross with a very apparent hint of dislike (or at least that’s what Ross  _thought_ ).

“H-hey? Listen, I forgive you for last week and I’m really sorry and-”

“Sure you are,” Smith scoffed.

Ross nodded, of course he was. Or… maybe it was only for Trott. Smith was the biggest prick out of all the Westies he had ever met, after all,  and suddenly his thoughts from before had disappeared. What was he thinking? That Smith wasn’t a bad guy? It was apparent looking at him that he would be up for snapping some necks, possibly even his own.

Smith nodded again. “For the record- I am literally only near you because of Trott, alright?”

Ross nodded. “Figured as much,” he muttered under his breath.

“Pardon,” Smith asked, and although the word was usually taken as polite, it suddenly very much wasn’t and made Ross regret speaking in the first place.

“I-I it’s just that, it’s pretty apparent that you… don’t… like us very much,” Ross shrugged.

“Mhm. And the only reason I’m even staying on your side of town, is because if I walk home alone I risk getting mugged, alright? So no smart remarks, alright?”

“Didn’t plan on making any, mate.”

“I’m not your mate,” the redhead scoffed. “And another thing, this isn’t gonna be mentioned anywhere alright? No gossip to the little pretty boys on your team, alright?”

“Again,” Ross sighed,” Didn’t plan on it. I’m not that big of an asshole… unlike some.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, I’m not afraid to punch the-”

The door to the bathroom swung open, Trott walking out with a somewhat content grin on his face. His face immediately changed, though, when he saw Smith’s gritted teeth and the way Ross was pushing himself into the corner of the couch.

“Fucking- really you guys?” The brunet sighed, biting his lip as he walked back to the couch and plopped down into the middle of the two. “I swear to God, if you spill any blood on this couch I’ll never let either of you come over again… at least not at the same time.”

“That’s all I gotta do to get pretty boy away from me? Aight, that doesn’t seem too hard,” Smith chuckled attempting to reach behind Trott to grab at Ross.

Ross recoiled back into the couch cushions, his eyes widening and hands coming out to block any hits coming towards him.

“Smith!” Trott screamed, shoving the redhead away and shifting over so he was closer to Ross. “Jesus Christ, you promised not to do this!”

“Yeah, I did until I remembered how terrible it was to be anywhere near an East Sider,” he scoffed.

“Oi! You know Trott’s kind of an East Sider now, right,” Ross quipped.

“Pft, Westie forever mate. Don’t even try that bullshit with me.”

“I’m neither, now. I talked about this with both of you,” Trott sighed, looking between the two. “I’m a neutral party.”

“You gonna stop coming to the games then? You gonna sit up with Nilesy at the snack shack?”

“Planned on it, yeah,” Trott spat. “Now both of you, chill the fuck out, alright? Get used to being in each other’s company, or fuck off honestly. Smith, you are my best mate. And Ross, you are another one of my best mates…”

At that moment, Ross dared to look over at Smith. He watched the snarl on his face change to a look of dismay, a look of disappointment as his eyes went from being trained on Ross to stare disbelieving at Trott. The redhead looked like he was shot in the stomach.

“... Am I understood?” Trott’s voice finished his speech with a firm voice, looking between the two waiting for an answer.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” Ross spoke, although not exactly sure as to what he just agreed to.

“Smith?”

“Fucking- fine whatever,” the redhead huffed, scooting closer to Trott. “You make one smart remark, though, pretty boy-”

“Why do you keep calling me that,” Ross asked, raising an eyebrow. “Mate, if you fancied me, you coulda just told me.”

Smith’s face once again changed, now looking more flustered as Trott snorted. 

“See, Smith? He already understands how we joke around, am I right?”

The redhead nodded, his face returning to a scowl as he looked back towards the screen.

“Alright, Ross. What movie did you wanna watch then?”

~~~

“So you are literally just going to school for the last two weeks,” Ross asked, raising an eyebrow.

Trott nodded with a sigh. It was Wednesday, and Monday would be his first day at the East Side’s school. “I’m really nervous.”

“I mean they’ll probably recognize you, but I won’t let them do anything, if they even tried. Believe it or not, us East Siders aren’t too terrible,” Ross chuckled, grinning at Trott. The brunet sported a somewhat sad and tired look, which made Ross’ smile drop.

“You alright?”

“Smith is pissed, all of my friends are pissed, everyone is pissed,” the teen groaned, slamming his head into the back of the sofa he sat on. His head bounced slightly upon the soft impact, but he closed his eyes and didn’t bother to pick his head back up.

Ross frowned. “That’s not true. Smith would never be pissed at you, that boy is twisted around your finger.”

“Pft. Are we talking about the same Smith,” Trott laughed, peaking an eye open and staring at Ross quizzically.

“I’m sorry, but if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed you guys were together honestly. He’s so protective over you, and touchy-”

“Smith is just a touchy guy, a horny bastard,” Trott huffed.

“Nah, mate. He- he doesn’t  _like_  like you, but you are like a brother to him, you can’t deny. He wouldn’t be pissed at you,” the dark-haired teen shook his head. “I saw it in you two, and it’s fucking adorable. I was gagging on rainbows over there when we hung out.”

Trott sat up completely, rolling his eyes. “Shut up!”

“I’m not even accusing you of anything, don’t be like that,” Ross scoffed. “Anyway, what’s up between you both? You see very close.”

Trott sighed, biting his lips. “Stuff… I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t know…”

Ross’ eyebrows furrowed. “Pardon?”

“Nothing… Hey, how’s your brother?”

“Still in jail,” Ross shook his head, smiling in a way that looked more sarcastic than anything. “My mum got a call from the prison today, and let’s just say she didn’t get off the phone in a happy mood.”

Trott hummed. “And your parents still won’t tell you what he did?”

“No,” Ross laughed. “I’m pretty sure he killed someone though…” He didn’t seem serious when he said the words, and neither did Trott when he laughed. “I don’t know, I was too young to really know. He went to jail when I was what- three? Four? I barely remember what he looks like…”

“Was he really a part of the original team,” Trott asked, somewhat changing the subject.

“Yup,” Ross nodded. “Hard to believe he knew Ridge’s brother… Or Duncan’s sister…”

“Am I going to meet them?”

Ross nodded. “Yeah. Ridge is the team leader, Duncan is Kim’s friend. Remember the girl from the game?”

Trott nodded. “She was good. Smith was complaining about her for awhile…”

“Rumor has it that he’s got a bit of a thing for her,” Ross smirked, staring over at Trott waiting for an answer.

“No. He was just pissed she could hit well,” Trott stated flatly. “Although…”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”  _Bad idea._  Trott thought.  _If there is any way to get Smith pissed at me, that’s it._

Ross groaned. “Mate, don’t fucking do that. People that do that are assholes. ‘Nothing’ they say after they led them on to a huge secret.”

Trott chuckled. “Sorry, I just- I rethought my decision… It was for the better, trust me.”

Ross shrugged. “Hm, whatever… Everyone is really nice though. I mean, Turps is a bit… He’s like a Smith equivalent, but not-”

“Stupid enough to actually go through with his threats,” Trott finished.

“Yes,” Ross laughed. “Not to offend Smith or anything.”

“Mate it’s fine, he’s not here.”

“I still can’t risk it, I don’t want him to beat me up.”

“You could take him,” Trott scoffed. “It would be an equal fight. And eventually I would have to intervene anyway, because I don’t want either of my mates to murder each other. We don’t need a repeat in history.”

Ross’ previous grin dropped. “Oooh. Low blow, mate…”

“Sorry,” Trott shrugged sheepishly. “We shouldn’t… bring up old…”

Ross laughed. “Not like my family was involved mate, it doesn’t bother me.” Which, it didn’t. Ross had never really heard much about how the rivalry had started, all he knew was that it was there for a reason, and he never dared to question it.

Trott shook his head. _That’s a lie._  “We still shouldn’t.”  _Too many bad memories_ , he thought.

~~~

"So, how are your two boyfriends?"

Trott practically growled, staring over at the blonde-haired girl that sat besides him. They both sat on stools by the snack shack, Nilesy busy making the popcorn they requested in the kitchen.

"How is  _your’s_?" It was a low blow sure, but it didn't seem to phase her much.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut your yap, alright? Why do you think I'm sitting over here and talking to you," she snapped. "Listen, hearing what Smith's complaining about it seems miserable for him, and that means it's even worse for you and the poor chump on the other end of Smith's bite."

Trott sighed. "Not gonna lie, it's pretty bad."

"Honestly, Smith's a pretty big prick if he won't even get along with the guy when you're around, differences aside..."

"He has his reasons, you should know this better than everyone," Trott muttered.

"That's no excuse, honestly. Listen, we all lost someone, I don't let that get in the way of everything, and neither do you," the girl pointed out.

"Yeah, but Smith is-"

"A massive prick, we've been over this, Trott."

"I'm aware of that, Hannah. But- it's..."

"You honestly can't let him get away with this any longer. You gotta do something, I mean, the boy- what's his name?"

"Ross," Nilesy supplied, leaning over the counter with two milkshakes in his hand. He smiled at both of them, "Mind if I join you gals' gossip sesh?"

"Go for it, buddy," the brunet sighed.

"Okay well Ross, he seems like a nice guy honestly. Despite what Smith is saying, i-it's  _Smith_  you can't exactly take his opinions seriously," Hannah shrugged. "Not to be rude to him, but let's be honest..."

"Yeah," Nilesy agreed. He sat on the other side of Trott. "Honestly, buddy, you're the only one with any reins on that boy. You gotta whip him into shape..."

Hannah hummed while Trott groaned, burying his face in his arms which were crossed on the countertop.

"Grow some tits, buddy. I woulda said something by now," Hannah laughed, nudging at his side.

"Ugh. I mean, I know I  _have_  to," Trott mumbled, his words muffled into his arms.

"Hey, if you can't, I'll can always get involved," Nilesy offered. "I'm good at keeping the peace-"

"Oi! No, Nilesy, let the boy take some real action over his boyfriends!"

"Really Hannah, c'mon now... If- if anything Ross and Smith would be boyfriends," Nilesy laughed.

"Wait...  _what_?!" Hannah squealed, "I thought Smith said-"

"He obviously didn't mention that he had a bit of a thing for, Ross..." Nilesy chuckled, trailing off awkwardly.

"What? Oh my God, that changes  _everything_!"

"Yeah... Smith has ranted to me about how he would like to, and I quote," Trott paused, making quote marks with his fingers as he mimicked the redhead. "I would like to fuck that pretty boy into the bleachers."

"Then why is he such a prick to him," Hannah gasped. "I swear you boys make  _zero_  sense."

"I know right, no fuxking sense. I mean, why not just get a cat? Cats are lovely, huh Hannah?"

The blonde nodded. "Yeah, cats are great! Tell Smith to buy himself a cat."

"He’s allergic to cats, but that's besides the point anyway. I honestly do not know what is up with him," Trott sighed.

"Yeah, well whatever it is, he needs to stop. I mean, he's got an opportunity for a boyfriend here, Ross is a really nice guy that just so happens to swing his way, if you know what I mean," Nilesy chuckled.

"Yeah, and Smith swings every which way, he'll swing at anything that he can hit," Trott sighed, "No pun intended, either! Hannah stop laughing. Anyway,I'm pretty sure he isn't interested in a relationship with an East Sider."

"God no," Hannah chuckled. "That boy anywhere near an East Sider without threatening to throw a punch? That'll be the day!"

"Challenge accepted."

Trott looked up at Nilesy, staring at him quizzically. "You’re joking!"

"Nope." The dark-haired boy shook his head. "Gimme a month, I'll get 'em to be a lot nicer to each other... Er, no guarantees about fucking into bleachers though."

"Honestly, if anyone can do it, it's Nilesy," Hannah sighed. She looked back towards the field, watching as Lewis swung at a nice pitch, hitting it perfectly and sending it way into outfield.

"Okay, do what you can... Anything I should do?"

"Don't mention anything to either of them, don't chastise them about getting along... If they ask- you are upset about your best mates not being friends. That's all I ask of you, my dear Chris Trott. The Nilesenator will handle the rest."

~~~

“He has a nice ass,” Smith whispered as he walked home alongside Trott.

“Oh my fucking God.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all going to enjoy this chapter :)

“Oh my God,  _Smith_ ,” Trott whined, shaking his head in his hands.

“Mate, I’m just being honest.”

“STOP!” Trott shoved at him with his arm, or at least tried to. The teen didn’t budge from his spot on the arm of the sofa, and just sighed sarcastically.

“Listen, he is  _really_  hot.”

“Then why can’t you both get along,” Trott asked. “Go snog him or something and stop being a prick.”

“Mate I can’t, he’ll taste like a East Sider,” the redhead shook his head.

“You are so immature- I mean, like Jesus Fucking Christ here you are talking about wanting his dick in your ass, or yours in his mouth!” Trott at this point was glaring over at Smith, who looked back sheepishly with red cheeks.

“And?”

“And then you say you hate him.”

“Just because I hate him, doesn’t mean he isn’t attractive.”

“If that’s how it works for you, you are incredibly shallow and I may ask you to leave,” Trott huffed.

“Ugh! No Trotty,” Smith whined, leaning on the smaller boy and earning a squeak. The brunet shoved at his shoulder.

“Smith! Fuck off!”

“No,” the redhead laughed, shaking his head.

“Fine then go fuck Ross!”

“No!”

“Ugh! Then stop saying he’s hot, alright? Unless you two are gonna be nice, I don’t want to hear it.”

Smith frowned. “I listen to you when you say people are hot.”

“I rarely do that, you constantly do that.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Well, you are a prick so… that’s what you get!”

“UGH. Listen I just, he’s an East Sider I  _can’t_.” Smith crossed his arms over his chest.

“If you are so adamant about this, then why do you seem so frustrated, like you actually  _want_  to like him,” the brunet questioned.

“I do like him,” Smith mumbled under his breath, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth. “I mean uh-”

“Then why are you such an ass to him? I'm pretty sure you scared him half to death last time you were both over...” Trott trailed off, remembering the video game session gone wrong that took place yesterday.

"I can't trust them, you  _know_  this," Smith huffed. "Let's drop it."  _Before I get upset,_  he wanted to add, but decided against it. The last thing he needed was a sad and pissed off Chris Trott.

"No, I'm not dropping it. Give me a  _goo_  reason."

Smith bit his lip.  _No?_  They agreed to never speak of this, and he flat out told him that he wouldn't drop the subject. He already knew the answer to what he was asking, and he had given reasonable answers before. But those words just seemed to break the very thin and flimsy dam that Smith used to hold back his anger.

“BECAUSE I CAN’T!”

Trott's eyes widened. Smith rarely yelled at him. Although he got upset a lot, Trott could see the way his teeth would grind and his body would tense, just trying to hold back the anger.

“ _WHY_ NOT,” Trott yelled back, matching the boy’s level of volume. “I JUST WANT YOU BOTH TO STOP FIGHTING IT’S BEEN TWO WEEKS OF THIS SHIT!"

Smith took a deep breath, biting his lips as he hissed out his next words that were carefully contemplated beforehand. “You  _know_ why.”

“ _They_ didn’t do anything. This rivalry is  _so_  stupid!”

“Shut up,” Smith spat. "Why would you even say that's? How could you even say that? To me? To  _me_? Do you not remember why we are fighting?!"

The brunet sighed. “I think- I think it’s time for you to get over this…”

“Why are you?  _HOW_  are you over it, Trott?” His voice was just slightly raised, and Trott cringed at the sudden volume.

“Smith-”

“THEY THINK-” Smith stood up from his place on the sofa, turning around quickly to face Trott. “THEY THINK THEY ARE SO FUCKING COOL. WITH ALL OF THEIR MONEY AND NICE COMMUNITY! THEY GET AWAY WITH EVERYTHING-”

“THEY BOTH WENT TO JAIL.”

“HE WAS JUST PROTECTING SOMEONE-” Smith screamed.

“HE  _KILLED_  SOMEONE, ALEX,” Trott yelled in reply. He took a deep breath. “I know you don’t see it that way-”

“IT  _WAS_  SELF DEFENSE! YOU FUCKING KNOW IT- WHY ARE YOU SO COOL ABOUT THIS? IT WAS YOUR BROTHER!”

Trott felt like he was shot. A sudden pain just hit him in the chest, spreading a numbness that travelled through his veins. He felt the sudden need to cry begin in his throat, as his breath seemed to hitch and his lungs seemed to tighten. _No_.

“MY BROTHER  _SAVED_  YOUR BROTHER, OR TRIED TO.” The redhead continued on.

Smith stood tall, towering over Trott’s form that suddenly seemed so small. The redhead was panting, his face red as he tried to regain his breath. He could see the smaller boy trembling, and immediately regretted his words.

“Fuck, Trott I-”

“Your. Brother. Revenge. Killed. Another. Man.” Trott’s words were unsteady stammers, a pause in between each word, and each word felt like a bullet. “It wasn’t even the  _same_  guy, Alex. It was another fucking guy! An  _innocent_ man. He jumped to a conclusion, didn’t wait for the cops... He is almost  _exactly_  like you, quick to act on something so,  _so_  stupid.”

_None of them are innocent_  Smith thought bitterly, except he didn’t dare to say it out loud.  _How dare he say that?_  Instead he kneeled down in front of Trott, placing one hand on both of his knees which were indeed quivering under his touch. He took in a deep breath, watching Trott’s face which was tilted towards his lap where his hands were fiddling nervously. It was no mistaking that the brunet was obviously crying, what with the quiet sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” Smith whispered.

“It’s okay.”

And it  _was_  okay, but for some reason Trott just felt pissed off. He felt pissed off with the fact that Smith couldn’t bare to get over a fourteen-year-old grudge. The fact that _nobody_  could seem to get over it was even worse.

He wanted this whole war to be done. This whole thing. Sure there was some spilt blood back in the day, but now it was different.  _Now_  was the time for some sort of make up process, a revolution of sorts when everybody became friends again because this was so fucking stupid.

The worst part about it is that the East Siders don’t even know… Or at least most of them don’t. Those who do choose to ignore it.

Ridge _knows_  what happened. Plenty of the East Siders know it happened, that what happened was terrible. 

And yet it is unfathomable for them to let anyone else know, because God forbid that something good finally fucking happened.

~~~

“Hey, Niles.”

The dark-haired boy looked up from where he was scrubbing the counters, flicking the fringe out of his eyes before his gaze fell on Ross. It was late, just past eight. The setting sun painted the sky with deep reds that faded into purples and finally a deep blue that was littered with the flickering white glow of stars. At the edge of the horizon, a faint red glow could be seen, one that still kept the sky slightly purple. The moon was just beginning to rise.

“Helping with cleaning again?” Nilesy smiled at the taller teen. Ross was always so kind about that, considering everyone else always skipped out. Of course it wasn’t asked of him to do so, but after a week of watching Nilesy clean it by himself, Ross decided it was the right thing to do.

“Are you complaining, because I’ll stop-”

“No,” the boy laughed shaking his head. “You’re always a great help Ross, thanks. Just- are those the last of the supplies?”

“Yes sir,” Ross nodded, saluting the boy with a playful grin on his face.

“Awesome, you mind grabbing something for me back there and help me set it up. It’s really heavy, but… it’ll do some good back here.”

Ross shrugged. “Sure… But I gotta meet up with Trott and… and Smith in half an hour so… what is it?”

“Cotton candy machine.”

Ross eyes widened, his whole body seeming to pop up and becoming giddy with excitement like a kid on Christmas. “No way!”

Nilesy nodded, a smirk on his lips. “Yeah, there should be a white box with blue letters on it. It should just say ‘Cotton Candy Machine’ on it, or something… Mind bringing it out here?”

“Yeah, definitely, as long as you let me bring some back for the guys.”

“Mmmm… deal.”

Ross smiled, nodding in confirmation as he walked towards the storage of the shack. It was a pretty large room, boxes and other supplies lining the walls from other sports or things that are used for the snack shack. A large fridge sat in the corner, storing what he assumed were sodas and water bottles and other perishable foods. Everything was lined with a layer of dust, unless it was baseball equipment that was used daily. Other than that, everything else was rarely touched or used in any shape way or form, so it was almost useless to have.

~~~

"Yes?"

Nilesy smiled, watching as Smith approached the counter. He looked slightly tired, although it was apparent he was trying to hide it. The redhead leaned on his elbows at the front window.

"Thanks for coming, I need your help," Nilesy explained.

Smith sighed. "Alright, what's up?"

"I ordered stuff for a cotton candy machine, the box is really big and very heavy I need help lifting it and possibly putting it together."

"Cotton candy? Sweet," Smith laughed. "But you owe me three cotton candies."

"Deal, here I'll show you where it is."

Nilesy exited the kitchen through the side door, waving for Smith to follow him to follow him. He led him around the to storage room behind the shack.

The door was open, a plastic triangle wedged into it to stop it from blowing closed in the wind. Nilesy stepped back, allowing for Smith to step towards the doorway.

The redhead peaked in, the small amount of light that spilled in from the little lamp wasn’t helping much. All he saw were shadows, one that particularly looked strange.

“Niles is there-” He started, but was cut off by two hands pushing into his back. Usually it wouldn’t be able to push him over, and yet he found himself stumbling forward blindly. He put his hands out as a reflex, although he found himself knocking into something large and warm.

"WHAT THE FUCK," he screamed, eyes barely picking anything out in the darkness besides shadows. The door slammed shut behind him, and he would’ve screamed if not for the sudden voice that accompanied his in the darkness.

Two hands came up to steady Smith, grasping and finally finding his arms. “You alright?”

Smith squeaked, jumping backwards and trying to get as far away from whoever that was as possible. He immediately turned towards the door, which was now just a slightly darker shadow. His hands felt the heavy metal of the door, banging on it a couple times with a sudden rage and worry.

“LET ME OUT NILESY THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” His fist slid down the door, his chest heaving as he thought of what to do.  _Light_.

His hands grappled in the darkness, searching for a lightswitch that stuck out of the wall. Luckily, he found it just to the right, and when he flicked it upwards the sound of a gentle hum almost made him jump. The lights turned to light with a flicker, before Smith was bathed in a fluorescent yellow that made his eyes narrow.

“Oh fuck, not you.” The voice from before came again from behind me, suddenly sounding distressed. It was familiar, and when Smith turned to see who it was, he found himself seething.

None other than Ross Hornby stood behind him, clad in a grey jacket and jeans. His jacket slid down his arm and exposed just a bit of his shirt, and for a moment Smith found himself taking in every little detail of him.

“Oh great, a fucking East Sider! Nilesy let me fucking out,” he screamed banging on the door again.

“No! Not until you both talk it out and get along,” a muffled voice came from the other side of the door, from none other than Nilesy.

“Fuck this, let us out Nilesy, this doesn’t concern you,” Smith spat, his voice irritated. Now Nilesy was telling him to get along with a fucking East Sider? No way. Sure he had done it before, but not to this point. This was  _too_  far.

“It does when Trott feels so fucking stressed that he asked Hannah and I for help,” Nilesy replied. “Smith don’t you fucking dare try and get fresh with me- you  _know_  this shit is pointless.”

“Nilesy,” Smith whined, sounding desperate. “Please, let me out… I won’t be rude to him anymore please…”

“No. I want you both to talk, become friends. When I get back you better be besties, or snogging at the most. No sex back there.”

Ross’ face screwed up in disgust. “What?”

Nilesy cackled. “Have fun, boys!”

“Wait- NILESY,” Smith yelled again, slamming on the door. The sound of footsteps grew quieter and quieter, until they were no more.

He turned back towards Ross, who was staring at his with a confused glare. “Snogging? Why the hell would Alex Smith snog an East Sider,” Ross chuckled, shaking his head. He stared at Smith, studying the way he resembled a trapped animal. Both of his hands were still braced on the wall, and he just looked pissed off and desperate to get out of the situation.

“Sh-shut up,” Smith huffed. He finally took his hands off the cold metal of the door, stuffing them in his jean pockets.

Ross’ brow furrowed. He didn’t understand what the big deal was, it’s a joke. But he didn’t dare to press, and instead looked around the room.

“I have a feeling that’s the only door,” Ross sighed, licking his lips. “So, we might as well get this over with, huh?”

Smith grumbled incoherent words, avoiding his gaze and instead staring at his lap.

“I’m willing to do this. You honestly don’t seem terrible Smith, I want to be friends-”

“Bullshit.”

Ross shook his head. “Believe it or not, I  _do_. And just for Trott’s sake, we can at least pretend. Or you can, to make both of us feel better. Fake friendships?”

Smith didn’t speak.

“Listen, I know you hate me, but can you at least try, for  _Trott_.”

Silence. Smith thought about saying that that wasn’t true, that he doesn’t  _hate_  Ross, but decided against it.

Ross mumbled obscenities under his breath. “Fucking unbelieveable. For Trott at least, grow some balls and fucking try to be friends with me."

"Why does everyone feel like they need to talk to me about this," the redhead grumbled. He stared around the room. Baseball gear and boxes lined the wall, most of them dusty and ripped. The cardboard looked faded, like it was old.

"Don't pretend like you don't know," Ross spoke. "Don't pretend like you are innocent in this situation."

"Don't pretend like you are then," Smith spat.

Ross' brows furrowed. "I mean I know I might not be the nicest, but I'm willing to get over the whole West Side so that we can both at least hang out without wanting to rip each other's throats out."

"Not that." Smith took a deep breath, finally looking up at Ross. "Do you really not know?"

Ross shrugged. "I-I... No? Should I know? I might know, I just don't know what you are talking about."

The redhead groaned, resting his head against the metal of the door he sat up against. "Unbelievable."

"You tell me then."

"Nah," Smith shook his head.  _He shouldn’t feel guilty about it, that’s what Trott would say,_ and with that in my mind Smith decided not to be a prick for once _._  "You shouldn't burden your pretty little self with that sort of thing."

Ross raised an eyebrow. "Wait? What? That's not fair! Tell me," he whined.

“It won’t do any good if I did,” Smith shrugged. “Everyone’s got their secrets, pretty boy.”

“My name is Ross, by the way. I wasn’t sure if you heard it when I first introduced myself, I thought maybe your ears were clogged with ignorance,” the dark-haired teen muttered, regretting his words the second they left his mouth.

He was surprised when Smith’s lips tugged up into a smile. The smart remark didn’t seem to make him angry, only make him chuckle lightly.

“You aren’t too bad,” Smith sighed. “But you’re still an East Sider.”

“Yeah, you know I would get in a lot of trouble if anyone saw I was talking with you.”

“Same for me,” Smith nodded. “Although, it’s not like they can punish me. It seems like you lot are all like that.”

“Uh, I guess? It’s always been like that, though,” Ross explained. He nervously ran his hands through his short hair, quickly looking away from Smith who was suddenly much more reactive to his words. Much more… okay with talking with him, with looking at him without making a face of pure hatred.

Smith hummed. “We can’t tell anyone we are friends, obviously.”

" _Friends_?"

Smith nodded, sparing a sweet smile at Ross that made the boy’s breath hitch.

“Me nor Trott, and you neither, they can’t know that we are friends.As far as they are concerned,” Ross sighed, focusing on a box. “We are worst enemies, it would be a shunable offence to speak to each other.”

“Nilesy gets away with it,” Smith pointed out.

“Yeah, but Nilesy is Nilesy. He also get’s away with bringing a cat to school and stuffing us in a room together,” Ross chuckled.

Smith snorted. “I suppose that’s true…” He paused, biting his lip as his eyes scoured the room. “Wait, what’s that?”

He pointed up to a vent on the ceiling, dust gathering on the sides of the bars of metal. It was right by the edge of the wall, showering light on top of an old shelf that looked like it could be moved. It must’ve been too big for the hole that was cut in the ceiling, slanted slightly with the side not attached by screws resting on top of what Smith thought was the roof. The night sky was visible through the slats, stars bright in the darkness.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ross chuckled. “You can’t reach up there, I know you’re tall, but-”

Smith stood suddenly, using one of the boxes as support as he hoisted himself up. He stood in front of the shelf, grasping the plastic pole and tugging at it experimentally. It made a noise of protest, but it shifted forward nonetheless in his grasp.

“Here, help me move this,” he smiled back at Ross. He had this crazy gleam in his blue eyes, one that made Ross reluctant to follow his instructions, but also almost indignified to do so as well.

The dark-haired teen stepped forward, grabbing the other side of the shelf with both hands. He tugged at it with Smith, wincing as the plastic shrieked as it scraped along the concrete floors. It was heavier than expected, but not too much for the both of them to handle. They were able to pull it out of the small alcove it was tucked in, as well as push it to the side so they were able to stand right under the vent.

“Okay, we got this. But, neither of us can reach.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Smith scoffed. “But both of us could…”

Ross’ brow furrowed. “That made no sense-”

“Together, I mean,” Smith explained.

“Pft, mate. You expect us to, what? For me to hop on your shoulders?”

“No,” Smith exclaimed, crossing his arms. “Obviously you are lighter, you could…” He trailed off, biting his lip and thinking over how to explain this to him. “You’ve snogged someone before, right?”

“Whoah,” Ross took a step back, raising his arms in a sort of surrender. “I didn’t-”

“For fucks sake, I wasn’t asking for you to snog me, Ross,” Smith huffed (although he was slightly disappointed by the look of fear that crossed Ross’ face). "I meant, that you could hook your legs around my waist, I could lean against the wall, and you could reach up there, right? Push the thing up, hoist yourself up, then unlock the door for me.”

Ross looked at him skeptically. “Uh, you, are you sure?”

“Why not? If you fall, I’ll catch you, I guess, if that’s what you are worried about.”

“You  _guess_? That doesn’t make me feel very safe, mate.”

Smith groaned, practically smacking himself in the face as he brought his hands up to rub at his temples. “For fucks sake, just trust me alright?”

Ross bit his lip. Trust was a very strong word, and not something he could say about a Westie. And Smith of all people?

“I dunno…”

“Mate,” Smith sighed. “Listen, when you get up there, you  _could_  run, and leave me locked in here. I am trusting you, to unlock the door for me, so you can trust me not to drop you.”

Ross debated this in his mind for a bit, rolling the thought around for a while. Silence encompassed them as he did so, a sort of hopeful and tense silence. Smith looked at him so hopefully, and he  _did_  look genuine.

“O-okay, fine,” Ross nodded. He took a step forward,” How do I-”

“Okay, this is why I brought up snogging before,” Smith explained. “I mean, you’ve kissed someone against a wall right, had a lady’s legs around your waist?”

_Sort of_ , Ross thought to himself, remembering the very attractive blonde boy he snogged in the locker room at school a year ago. He was a lot shorter than him, so as he leaned up against the cold locker with his hands clutched at his lower back, four limbs were wrapped around him- two arms around his neck and two legs around his waist.

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. “You want me to…?”

Smith nodded. “Yeah, just… here.” The redhead reached out quickly, grabbing Ross by the waist and pulling him forwards. Their chests were pushed together, both of them flushed pink at the contact.

Smith ignored the heat on his cheeks, and instead put his other hand on Ross’ waist as well, holding tight. His heart was beating fast, and he ignored the way breathing seemed to get a bit more difficult as he spoke again.

“Put your arms on my shoulders,” Smith stated. His voice was shaky, and it almost didn’t sound like his own.

Ross didn’t seem to notice though, more preoccupied with their newfound closeness. He nodded though, proceeding to grab both of Smith’s shoulders, wrapping his right hand more around his neck.

“Okay, on the count of three, push yourself up, and I’ll hold you steady.”

“Alright,” Ross nodded nervously. He could feel that his hands were sweaty, and suddenly his sweater felt very unnecessary. “Wait-” he stopped letting go of Smith and stepping backwards away from his grasp.

Smith was about to ask what was wrong, but stopped himself when Ross unzipped his jacket and pulled it off his arms. An amused smile found its way onto his lips when Ross’ arm got stuck and he had to yank it off, in the process hiking up his shirt and exposing the hair that trailed down below his navel. He also bent down and untied his cleats, stepping out of them and exposing two different colored socks.

“Okay, sorry, just another precaution,” Ross explained. “This,” he paused, sporting a very serious expression as he spoke,”Is my all time favorite jacket.” He dropped it onto the floor suddenly, like he didn’t care. “I  _have_  to come back for it, so this is an extra guarantee that I will come back to open the door. And, of course I  _need_  my shoes.”

The redhead laughed. “Alright, that’s fine with me, mate.”

Ross smiled as well as he stepped forwards again, not needing to be told to grab Smith’s shoulders and to push himself against his solid heat. Smith replaced his hands on his waist.

“Okay, one... two… three!”

Ross pushed down on Smith’s shoulders, pulling his legs up in the process and wrapping them around Smith’s back that had arched off of the wall as he moved upwards. He squeaked when two hands were planted firmly on his butt.

“Smith,” he shouted, almost falling but luckily steadying himself with a hand on Smith’s head.

“Hey, watch my hair,” the redhead shouted. “That takes  _time_.”

“Then take your hands off my arse, you fucking perv,” Ross commanded, smacking at Smith’s head once before the teen did so and instead planted them on his  _upper-_ thighs.

Ross’ legs had crossed behind Smith’s back, his toes and heels digging into the heat of his back. His crotch was pushed up against Smith’s chest, giving the boy beneath him a face full of Ross.

“Mate, you’re heavy, hurry it up, okay,” Smith grunted, pushing up on his thighs as he did so.

Ross nodded, letting go of Smith’s head and sort of launching himself upwards. Smith’s grip tightened on his thighs, and the boy cursed underneath him, grumbling something about having a bruise tomorrow. The dark-haired boy just smiled, his hands just in reach of the top of the roof. He pushed his palms against the cold surface.

“I got it,” he laughed triumphantly, his hand pushing up on the vent. It didn’t budge. “Fuck!”

“What,” Smith questioned, craning his neck to look up at Ross. In the process, his chin scratched against Ross’ lower stomach, making the boy jump and suddenly lose his balance.

He yelped as he fell, his feet scrambling for some sort of grip and his hands reaching down to grab at Smith. His eyes squeezed closed as he slid down Smith’s body, his arms blindly grappling for something to hold as Smith seemed to panic underneath him.

Smith’s grasp on his thighs tightened as it slid upwards, until his hands were settled firmly on Ross’ butt. Ross’ eyes shot open when he felt the grope, but it was almost in relief when he realized he wasn’t on the floor with broken limbs.

“I got you,” Smith muttered, his voice low and shaky.

Ross dared to look down, seeing as his hands had snaked around Smith’s neck and that the two were now more level with each other. The redhead looked up at him with wide eyes, full of slight concern. He felt his chest move under his skin, the boy’s breathing heavy and fast.

“Th-thanks,” Ross finally stammered, finding himself caught up in the nebulous depths of Smith’s light blue eyes. “You weren’t lying when you said you would catch me.”

Smith shrugged. “Also wasn’t lying when I said I trusted you…”

Suddenly the heavy atmosphere from before returned, not very awkward anymore, just tense. They were pressed close together, and Smith held Ross so tightly to himself that if Ross wasn’t so caught up in the moment it might be hard for him to breath.

“C-can you put me down,” Ross’ voice broke the silence, a hesitant rasp.

Smith obliged sheepishly, releasing his grip on Ross’ butt and allowing for the boy to hop down. He was ready for him to let go of his neck, for the warmth of his body to suddenly be gone, but he was pleasantly surprised when Ross only seemed to step closer.

“Ross,” Smith asked curiously, his voice cracking with a sudden emotion that ran through his veins. His breathing was suddenly very labored, like something was pushing down on his chest, but in the best way possible. His throat was dry, and so were his lips, but none of that really mattered.

He was trembling as he stared at Ross, his eyes taking in his pale well-defined “pretty boy” face. His gaze trailed from his electric blue eyes, all the way down to his chapped light-pink lips. The redhead was about to speak, opening his mouth to do so, but instead let out a breath when Ross licked his own lips out of a nervous habit.

The next movements were quick and  suddenly Smith’s lips were pressed against Ross’. Ross gasped, his hands around Smith’s neck tightening their grasp as his fingers tangled into the hair on the back of his neck, pulling his head closer.

Their lips moved together in a tandem, smooth but hard, not exactly a soft kiss and probably not the classiest thing either. Smith’s hands once again found themselves right on Ross’ lower back, and when they shifted downwards to slip into Ross’ jean pockets, Ross didn’t stop him. He instead growled into the kiss, opening his mouth against Smith’s.

Smith bit at his lip, his face flushed and heart pounding as he kissed Ross roughly. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and Ross’ warmth pressing against him just added fuel to the flame.

Neither of them even pulled apart, breathing through their noses in hot breaths of air. Adrenaline coursed through their brains, creating a sort of filter that made only gasps and moans from the other audible.

Ross adjusted himself, his crotch pressed into Smith's thigh and suddenly realizing their hips were level with each other. He felt so warm inside, and it made him fidgety and  _need_  to move around due to it. Not that he was complaining, because he definitely enjoyed plastering himself to Smith.

When Smith pulled away, it was barely for a second before his lips smoothed against Ross' cheek, and down his chin, making their way to his neck. Ross let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden pressure, his hands tightening in Smith's hair and tugging lightly.

"S-Smith," he gasped, his head falling back when the redhead's lips were hot against his skin.

"Whoah there, boys."

Both of them jumped. Ross went backwards, pushing himself away from Smith and his head spinning towards the sudden voice. Smith had hit his head against the wall in the process, now clutching it in pain.

Nilesy stood in the doorway, which was open and revealed the night sky to them both. Stars twinkled and the wind rushed by.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I have a strict rule about sex in this room."

"Nilesy-" Ross started, about to babble on and try to somehow make him swear to secrecy.

The boy only held a single finger up, signaling silence as he spoke.

"I won't tell, don't worry about anything. Both of you are fine, nobody has to know."

Smith breathed out a sigh of relief, his hand coming to scratch at his head.

"Not even Trott, Nilesy."

"What? Why not,” Ross asked. “He should know, he’ll be happy.”

“We  _can’t_  risk someone finding out,” Smith shook his head.

“Trott won’t care.”

“Yeah, but anyone else that finds out  _will_. We can just be friends in front of him,” Smith explained.

“ ‘Just friends’ in front of him? What does that mean we are when we are alone,” Ross questioned, his voice quiet and hopeful.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Nilesy finally spoke. “Your secret is safe, and I’ll cover for you guys if you want.”

“Thanks, Nilesy,” Ross smiled, before turning back to Smith.


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn’t necessarily the fact that Smith and Ross had shown up together that had shocked Trott. It was more the fact that neither of them seemed to be fighting, and the fact that they both had greeted him warmly.

“You are both late,” he pointed out as they walked up the stairs of his house.

“Sorry, Nilesy… had to talk-” Ross started, but stopped when Smith gently nudged his side. The redhead shook his head.

“Nilesy had to talk to… you both,” Trott asked.  _So that means that he did it tonight? I guess that would make sense, because they were both so nice to each other_ , he thought to himself.

“No,” Smith shook his head. “We ran into each other on the way here, talked a bit… ya’ know?”

“Yeah,” Trott nodded thoughtfully (still somewhat suspicious)  as they reached the landing of the stairs. His hand left the smooth wooden surface of the banister. “Anyway, up for some video games?”

The whole night was peculiar, at least in Trott’s eyes. He still sat in the middle of the sofa, and Smith still sat close to him, but there were no glares between his two friends. There were no harsh comments or anything of the sort either, and if there were any, they were just jokes, and they all laughed it off like they were old friends. Ross didn’t crowd himself into the corner of the couch anymore either, he sat closer to Trott, so much so that their knees occasionally bumped.

They were even able to get to the point where Ross and Smith could actually play against each other, and in a game that was so prone to rage it was almost incredible that neither of them prompted a fist fight. Of course Smith still raged, but then again, who wouldn't in a game as intense as M _ortal Kombat_. It was still strange, and he still cussed Ross out, but it was in a manner he would do with Trott when they played.

It was pretty late Smith finally gave up, throwing his controller onto the table with a defeated sigh. "I'm done, you win."

Ross laughed triumphantly. "You up for a game, Trotty?"

"Nah, mate," the brunet yawned, setting down his controller. "Either of you hungry?"

Smith shrugged. "Not really, are you, Ross?"

The dark-haired teen nodded. "I forgot to grab something from Nilesy. Can you grab me something from downstairs, Trott?"

"You don't want to... Come downstairs and help me...?" Trott narrowed his eyes at Ross' calm demeanor, the way he lounged on the couch as if Smith no longer posed a threat. He turned his gaze over to Smith, whose own attention seemed to be focused on... Ross?

"You probably should," Smith cut in. "You're stinking up the air in here mate, I need a bit of a breather." He smirked over at Ross, who in return huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fuck you, I have to breathe in your air all the time and I don't complain."

Trott scoffed. "Well, I have to take in both of your stank, and let me tell you- it's fucking terrible. Ross, c'mon help me with this. I'm sure Smith will be hungry by the time we bring food up, might as well make him some."

"Yes, Sir," Ross nodded, saluting as he pushed himself off the couch.

~~~

Ross knew it was coming, the inevitable question of: "Why the fuck are you both not murdering each other?"

The two of them stood down in the kitchen, Trott fumbling with the toaster oven as he shoved some freezer chicken nuggets inside, turning back towards Ross with a sigh.

The dark-haired teen leaned against the counter, both of his hands gripping the smooth tile with his knuckles facing outwards. He stared at Trott, waiting for the inevitable question that he would have to lie about.

Of course he didn't want to lie to Trott. Although it's only been a couple weeks, he still considered the brunet one of his best friends.

"So, school on Monday," Ross finally spoke. "You excited?"

"Haven't we already had this conversation," Trott asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Probably." The boy shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

"Why don't we talk about... The fact that you and Smith are friends now?"

Ross nodded. "Yeah, we talked it over, it's all good now."

Trott's eyes narrowed. "And that's it?"

Ross nodded again. "Yep."

"Hmm... Why do I feel like you are lying?"

"What is there to lie about," Ross asked. "We talked about how stupid we both were letting this get in the way. He mentioned something about, people pressuring him or whatever, and apologized for being an ass, and I did too."

"Really? Smith apologized," Trott laughed. "No way!"

Now that Ross thought about it, he didn't recall the redhead saying the word "sorry" at all during their conversation, but then again he didn't remember a lot besides the feel of his lips and the way his hands pressed into his butt. He blushed at the thought, and immediately pushed it from his mind.

"I was surprised too, honestly. I mean I had to do a bit a prompting, and honestly had to bring you up multiple times to sort of guilt him into admitting he was being a douche, but... In the end it worked," Ross shrugged. "I mean, don't question it though, just be happy it happened."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Ross breathed out in relief, looking back up towards the stairs. "Where's your mum?"

"At work," Trott replied. "Here, just go on back upstairs before Smith breaks something. I swear he can't be alone for more than five minutes."

"You sure?"

"What? Are you afraid he's gonna kill you?"

"Pft, no," Ross chuckled, turning on his heel towards the stairs.

~~~

"Hey."

Smith turned his head, looking back towards the doorway where Ross stood. He closed it behind him, walking forward somewhat awkwardly.

"Hey," Smith smiled, watching Ross sit down next to him. Their knees brushed and suddenly the need for contact seemed overwhelming.

Ross jumped when a hand cupped his knee, and when Smith leaned forward so that they were face to face.

"You okay?"

Ross gulped, nodding nonetheless. He was pretty sure he was okay, and he was pretty sure the fuzzy feeling in his stomach was normal. His cheeks were warm and he was almost afraid to look into Smith's eyes. Why? He wasn't sure. Suddenly his nerves had gotten the best of him.

"How long you think Trott will take with the food," Smith asked, his breath warm against Ross' face.

"Maybe five minutes," Ross murmured, his voice quiet.

"I kinda want to kiss you again."

"Kinda," Ross asked, raising an eyebrow at Smith.

The boy laughed. "Okay,I  _really_  wanna kiss you."

"I do too," Ross nodded. There was a moment where they were unsure of what to do, and then suddenly they both leaned forward and their lips were pressed together in a wonderful heat.

Ross leaned into the touch, his right hand coming up to cup Smith's cheek. He shifted closer so that his leg was pushed up against Smith, almost to the point where he was sitting on his lap. Their lips moved together in an easily found rhythm, gentle and calm and sharing such a warmth that made both of their hearts flutter.

Smith only pulled back when he heard footsteps on the stairs, and it was with great reluctance when he pushed Ross away. Ross took the hint and quickly scrambled back towards the other side of the couch.

Smith quickly pulled his phone from his pocket, pretending to be absorbed in the screen and motioning for Ross to do so as well. When Trott opened the door, a platter of chicken nuggets in his hand, he saw two boys silently typing away on their phones.

"Hmph, way to keep him company, Ross," Trott huffed, walked around the couch so he could sit down and place the food on the table. Smith smirked over at Ross, mouthing the words "It was great company" then winking.

Ross blushed, averting his gaze and then shoving his phone back into his pocket. "Smith? You staying over tonight?"

Smith nodded, leaning forward eagerly to grab a chicken nugget and then proceeded to shove it in his mouth.

"It's hot," Trott warned in a sing-song know it all voice, and it only took a second before the pained yelp and the sound of Smith spitting out the nugget to reach his ears.

"Thanks for the warning, mate," Smith muttered, staring down at the slightly soggy nugget in his hand.

"Serves you right, you pig," Trott mumbled.

The night went on in a similar matter. Trott passed out by two in the morning, and Ross and Smith at three after a quick snog and the exchange of numbers.

Trott took the bed by default, Smith explaining that "I would usually too, but you're here too and that's sort of rude." Ross passed out on the couch, only after helping Smith create a pillow mattress on the floor to sleep on.

~~~

"Hey, Smith," Lewis called, waving the redhead over. He sat on edge of the cafeteria table. Hannah was next to him on a chair, absorbed into a book.

Throughout the large room, there was a loud hum of chatter from the other occupants, all of their words bouncing off the walls. Somehow, Lewis and Hannah occupied a completely empty table by the window, although other backpacks and binders were discarded on the other seats. He had figured that everyone else had gone off to do their own thing.

Smith walked over, straightening his jacket as he approached. The shorter boy straightened his glasses before speaking.

"Where's Trotty?" The boy asked, immediately snapping Hannah out of her book.

"He texted me earlier, said he was really sick. Would be out for the week," she supplied quickly, sparing a glance up at Smith. The redhead raised an eyebrow, but was relieved he wouldn’t have to come up with an excuse nonetheless. She mouthed the words "we will talk later" before going back to her book.

"Oh, that's a shame. Think he will be to the game this weekend? I didn't see him last time..."

"He sat with me and  _Nilesy_ ," Hannah once again spoke. "He left with Smith as soon as the game was over."

Smith once again glanced at the blonde.  _Nilesy? The same Nilesy that shoved me into a storage closet with Ross..._

"Oh, well- tell him I said hello,  I suppose. I'm assuming you don't let the poor boy rest, even when he's sick," Lewis chuckled.

"It's not like I'm a bother," Smith huffed.

"Ahuh," Lewis chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Hannah here, said he was talking her ear off about how horrible you were."

"That's a bit rude," Smith mumbled, again looking at Hannah. "Quite the gossip girl, huh Hannah?"

She shrugged, closing her book. "He also told me something else, that you might want to know... Lewis, why don't you go find Simon he's been in the library talking to Ms. Bacon for far too long..."

Luckily, Lewis took the hint, saying his goodbyes before striding off to the library.

"Sit down, Smith," Hannah commanded, pointing towards the chair besides her. Smith compiled, for many reasons. For one, it was  _Hannah_ , and that just happened to be the rest of the reasons that came to mind as well.

The redhead looked over at her. "What'd he tell you?"

"Well, Trott said that you fancy an East Sider-"

"Shh! Keep it down," Smith whispered harshly, quickly glancing around for anyone that might've been listening into their conversation.

"Well? Is it true?"

There was no point in lying, it was Hannah. "Yeah..."

"Okay, well, that's pretty adorable, and cliche, I'll tell you that much. And, how did Nilesy's amazing plan work out? You guys friends now?"

Smith nodded, avoiding the eyes that stared into his soul. "Yeah... We put our differences aside, he isn't too bad..."

"And...?"

"And, what?"

"Tell me the rest, you're hiding something. I can tell."

"Am not!"

"Don't be a child, Smiffy. Just tell me.” Hannah looked at him with raised eyebrows and an expectant look.

“O-okay,” Smith sighed. “Nilesy locked us up in the storage closet… and… we… snogged a little bit, maybe.” The last part of the statement was a quiet mumble, just loud enough for Hannah to hear.

She gasped. “Smith?! Did you  _really_?”

“Don’t tell anyone, not even Trott,” Smith spat. “Nobody can know.”

“Oh my God,” the blonde laughed, shaking her head. “I knew you would kiss pretty much anything with lips Smith, but I thought the only exception was East Siders.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the redhead muttered. “It’s not my fault, he kept licking his lips and now… I have his number.”

“Text him,” Hannah suggested.

“He probably won’t answer, he’s at school.”

“Pft. Have you ever heard of someone that wouldn’t answer their phone at lunch,” the blonde snorted.

“Well, what do I say?”

“Ask about Trott,” she shrugged. “Plus, I’m sure he’ll love hearing from you, and honestly I want to hear from him too.”

The redhead grumbled as he took out his phone, holding it in his lap as he went to his messages and sent one to the contact: Ross.

_To Ross:_

_Hey hows Trotty’s first day?_

He shoved his phone between his thighs. “He probably won’t answer,” he shook his head. “Wh-why would he? It was probably a one-time thing.”

“You only snogged him once? You just kissed and went home? What happened after?”

The redhead shrugged. “Er, we talked… exchanged numbers… said we should meet up again… kissed a little bit at Trott’s place.”

Hannah laughed. “Of course you would, you saucy bugger.”

Smith felt his phone vibrate in his lap, and he picked it up and went to his messages way too enthusiastically.

_From Ross:_

_He’s alright. Everyone seems to like him. nobody has said anything about him being a Westie_

Hannah leaned over Smith’s shoulder. “Hmm. Need help?”

Smith nodded.

“Okay,” Hannah sighed. “Tell him that, that’s good, and to tell Trott that you said that he’s a twat… and… ask how he is doing?”

“What? Really, that seems a bit…  _much_ ,” Smith asked.

“I’m a girl, I know what I’m doing, just do it.”

_To Ross:_

_Okay good. i just get a little bit worried ya know? tell him i said he’s a twat. also, how are you?_

Smith exhaled deeply as he pushed send. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“Because you  _like_  him, Smith. It isn’t just some friends with benefits bullshit.”

“Well I knew that, believe it or not Hannah, I’m not interested in that.”

“Oh right,” the blonde muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “You are interested in one-night blow jobs from strangers that don’t mean a thing.”

“That’s not true!”

“Okay fine… one time you had Trott give you one, he’s not a stranger.”

The redhead flushed. “Th-that’s not true either! Trott is like a brother to me, that’d be like you telling Simon to-.”

“Eugh, gross- don’t even finish that sentence,” Hannah groaned, making a face of disgust.

“Exactly-” Smith started, although his phone vibrating interrupted him.

_From Ross:_

_I’m alright, thanks for asking. Although apparently practice is canceled tonight… so… that sucks_

“He wants to make plans with you,” Hannah declared.

“What? How do you know?”

“Why else would he mention that his practice is canceled?”

Smith bit his lip. “Oh… that makes sense… wait, so that means he is interested?”

“Obviously, here, be a bit more obvious. Say something you would say.”

“What?”

“A classic, randy Alex Smith line, ya know? Something about fucking or sucking or rimming, you know, the usual you,” Hannah shrugged.

“Good to know that’s what you think of me,” the redhead huffed.

_To Ross:_

_Oh yeah, you know what else sucks? You tonight, at my place???_

“Nice one,” Hannah smiled. “Look at you, flirting professional.”

“A flirting professional,” a voice from behind them mused.

Lewis and Simon now stood there, both of them looking at the two confused. “What? Does Smith have a new lover?”

“No, mind your own fucking business,” Smith spat, clutching his phone to his chest.

“That’s the look of someone in love, if I’ve ever seen one,” Simon chuckled, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose.

“Shut it!”

~~~

“Who you texting, Ross?”

Ross looked up from his phone, blinking at the group at the table that surrounded him. Trott sat at his left, and luckily the right side was an empty seat so nobody else could see what he was doing. Although he didn’t necessarily want Trott to see either, the brunet was better than any of the East Siders.

“Nobody, playing a game,” the dark-haired teen muttered.

“No you’re not,” Kim laughed from across the table. “Look at you, all blushy. Who is it?”

“Nobody.”

Kim rolled her eyes. “Ahuh.”

“C’mon Ross, you can tell us! Who’s the lucky guy,” Turps prompted, reaching over from behind Trott to nudge at Ross’ shoulder.

“Nobody, really,” Ross shook his head. “I’m playing Flappybird.”

“No you fucking aren’t,” Strippin objected. “You’ve told us many times before how much you hate that game.”

“He really isn’t texting anybody, guys,” Trott shook his head. He shared a glance with Ross before returning his gaze to the rest of the the East Siders. “He was just too embarrassed to admit he was taking a selfie, is all.”

Ross groaned, irritated by the sudden attention he was getting. “All of you fuck off, alright?”

“Why? You want to have a private moment with your picture,” Turps teased.

“Shut up,” Ross huffed.

He ignored the rest of the comments, which eventually faded off into another conversation about this weekend’s game. When his phone buzzed, he looked back down.

_From Smith:_

_Oh yeah, you know what else sucks? You. Tonight, at my place???_

If he wasn’t blushing before, he sure was now. He felt his face grow red hot, and knew that Trott had definitely noticed by the way he nudged his shoulder.

“So you do have someone,” the brunet whispered.

“I, er- yeah… don’t say anything though?”

“Of course not,” the brunet shrugged. “Just be careful tonight when you suck him off. If you go any further, use protection.”

“For fucks sake, Trott,” Ross shook his head.


	7. Chapter 7

Ross gnawed on his lip. “You can’t just suddenly, uncancel practice.”

“ _Uncancel_  isn’t a real word,” Kim muttered quietly, looking up at Ross from her position right next to him. They sat in a circle in the library. It was currently study hall, and they had gathered at their normal table in the corner. The sunlight from the window shined down on the mahogany wood tables, and the scent of dust and paper was heavy in the air.

Ridge raised an eyebrow, his gaze along with six others focusing on the dark-haired boy. “Uh… well-” He himself was confused and somewhat concerned by the sudden outburst, by the way that Ross seemed adamant on not going.

Strippin stood next to Ridge, and spoke after a shared glance. “Mate, if you can’t make it, that’s alright. You’ve never missed one before, it isn’t a big deal.” 

The dark-haired teen shook his head. “I can’t just, let you guys down like that… I mean, why can it suddenly happen again?”

“My mother no longer needs me to babysit,” Ridge shrugged. “But, that’s besides the point… Ross, where do you have to go?”

“Nowhere, just-”

“Mate, just tell ‘em. Is it honestly a  _big_  deal?” Trott sat on his other side, leaning on his elbows with a book underneath him. “Ross has a boyfriend, alright? They were supposed to meet tonight.”

Ross eyes widened, his cheeks blushing a bright red as he quickly gazed down at the textbook in his lap. There was a chorus of “oooohs” around him, and for a moment he swore he was back in primary school when having a crush was so strange.

“See, I told you guys,” Kim laughed, much too loudly for the library environment and earned a shush from a nearby teacher. She continued in a whisper. “Ross! Who is he?”

“Uh… I- wasn’t supposed to tell?” He was a terrible liar, and winced as the words left his mouth. He could even see Trott visibly stiffen and facepalm as he spoke.

“He’s from out of town, right?”

“Y-yeah, I was… supposed to… go over to his place,” Ross shrugged. “Will you all stop staring?! It’s not like I haven’t dated someone before!”

“Yeah, but Ross… this is… what the first you’ve had in a  _year_ ,” Strippin hissed. “Nice job, man.”

“That doesn’t… mean… Guys, none of you have dated anybody in ages either! Why are you all… j-just… fucking stop!” The boy whined, leaning back in his chair with a huff and crossing his arms over his chest.

~~~

This was a mistake, he already knew it. It wasn’t like he had a car to drive though, and he definitely couldn’t ask anybody for a ride. The bus seemed like the next best thing, but as he stepped onto the vehicle he immediately regretted his choices.

It wasn’t like the bus was necessarily unsafe-looking, it was more the fear of being mugged by a Westie than anything. It was surprisingly clean for  public transportation that had been running all day. Few people crowded the plastic seats, and none of them paid much mind to Ross. There was an older couple near the back, bickering quietly about the dumbest things. A woman dressed in a suit sat closer to the front, using a mirror to reapply her lipstick.

Ross took a seat on the right side, scooting himself closest to the window and to the front of the bus. An easy and quick escape, he figured, if anything went wrong. He leaned up against the window, looking outside as the bus made a rumbling noise before it started to move.

His phone was in his lap, and he quickly unlocked it to send a quick text to Smith.

_To Smith:_

_Public busses are scary af_

He sighed, watching the shifting environment outside. The sidewalk was pretty much empty, not many people out walking today, although he didn’t necessarily blame them. It was a bit on the hot side, definitely not the kind of weather that anyone would want to walk in. Earlier today he had to shove his hoodie in his backpack to avoid getting a heat stroke. There were many cars though, that were going much faster than the bus.

After a couple miles or so, the bus pulled off to the side. Another bus stop, with two benches outside and a small overhang. Only a young blonde girl sat there, looking about Ross’ age. Her hair was pulled back, a book in her hand and a backpack over her shoulder. She didn’t look very familiar, though, and he was almost sure that she was a West Sider.

He gulped, turning his head to the side when she stepped inside. As she did so, she only glanced up from her book once, presumably to find a nice seat. Her eyes scanned everything, and when they fell upon him crowded into the corner and warily looking up at her, her eyes narrowed.

She took up the seat on the other side of the aisle, and after settling down, turned back to her book. Ross sighed, biting his lip. She definitely saw him, and possibly recognized that he definitely wasn’t a Westie. The blonde looked strangely familiar, and Ross knew it was most likely because he’d seen her at games.

His phone buzzed, and he looked down.

_From Smith:_

_I’d come pick you up if I could but if people saw me walking with someone other than Trott theyd get suspicious ya know?_

_To Smith:_

_Yeah… this girl just got on the bus and i think she knows im not a Westie_

There was an immediate response.

_From Smith:_

_what she look like… can you sneak a picture?_

_To Smith:_

_What? No! That’s creepy af_

_From Smith:_

_Just do it, she won’t notice probably_

Ross huffed, accessing his camera and pointing it at the girl. She definitely didn’t notice, too absorbed in her book. He sent the picture.

_From Smith:_

_Oh! That’s Hannah! Let me txt her_

Ross bit his lip, sparing a glance up at the girl. Hannah- the name did suit her. She looked serious, like someone that knew how to get shit done. There was a sound of a phone ringing, definitely her’s. She fished it from her pocket, looking at it for a moment, then looking over at Ross. He awkwardly waved, mouthing the word “hi” and smiling.

She sighed, closing her book in her lap and shoving it in her bag. She stood suddenly, swinging her bag over her shoulder and walking across the aisle, seating herself next to Ross.

“Hello,” she greeted, smiling over at him and offering her hand. “I’m Hannah, Smith’s friend.”

“I’m Ross,” the dark-haired teen nodded, shaking her hand and then dropping his own into his lap. Of course she noticed the way he visibly stiffened when she sat near him. She sighed.

“I’m not going to bite you, don’t worry.”

“S-sorry, habit,” he chuckled awkwardly.

“I don’t blame you. You probably had a terrible experience with Smith,” Hannah   shook her head, rolling her eyes. “I mean I know that he’s attractive and all, but of all the Westies to get with, he is probably your worst choice.”

“Wasn’t really  _my_  choice, per say, more Nilesy shoving us into a room.”

“Yes, he told me about that,” Hannah smiled. “Also told me that you were a good kisser and had a nice ass.”

Ross blushed,”Did he?”

“He’s told me  _way_  too much, although I suppose I asked. Anyway, you going over to his place then?”

“Y-yeah, how did you-?”

“I was the one helping him text you. He honestly isn’t that smooth,” the blonde huffed. “He needs a lot of work, at least to be able to flirt properly.”

“You were the one that asked me to suck his dick then,” Ross laughed, raising an eyebrow.

“No, he did that one on his own. A bit distasteful, honestly, but hey, it’s Smith. That’s what you signed up for.”

Ross nodded. “Yes, I’ve had much experience with that side of him, and many more I’d rather  _not_  mention.”

Hannah nodded. “Yeah, Trott told me about that part. I heard he made quite a lot of jabs at you, although, I don’t expect anything less from him. I mean, did you hear him at the game two weeks ago. Fucking maniac, I swear-”

“That wasn’t necessarily his fault though, Turps kinda started it.”

“True… But I seriously doubt you did anything to start it when he was being an ass to you.”

Ross shrugged. “A-also true. Hard to believe that I went from hating him to wanting to kiss him…”

“He really isn’t too bad,” Hannah sighed. “I mean, yeah he  _seems_  that way, but he really is a big softie on the inside. Hell, he was all blushy just trying to talk to you, and when he talks about you. I think he just has a hard time expressing that stuff… although… I don’t blame him…”

Ross looked at her with a questioning gaze. “Why?”

“About the big fight, you know…?”

Ross shook his head. “ ‘m afraid not? I mean I kind of know what it is, but not really to the point that I know what's going on with it."

Hannah’s eyes widened. “What? Really?” Her voice was suddenly a hushed whisper. “You don’t- “

“Wait, is it the thing that Smith refused to tell me too?”

Hannah nodded. “Probably, I mean, it doesn’t necessarily surprise me that you guys would bury your past to make you all seem like not terrible people-”

“Oi!”

“Not you, specifically. It just makes me wonder how many of you all actually  _know_ ,” she bit her lip. “Do you know why this whole rivalry started?”

Ross shook his head. “Everyone has always told me it was your guys’ fault, but…”

“Smith used to live on the East Side, you know? He used to live there, and his family were fairly rich. He had a brother too, or I suppose he still does… but- Listen, I don’t know if he wants me telling you this…”

“I’m sure it’s better for me to know than to just not be aware of it,” Ross shrugged.

“Promise you won’t tell him that I told you?”

Ross nodded.

“Okay well-” She was interrupted by the bus screeching to a stop, and the door opening. “This is your stop,” she muttered, looking out the window. “His house is only a block from here.”

Ross sighed. “Okay, well, hopefully I won’t be jumped.”

“Put on a jacket or something and pull up the hood, nobody will recognize you.”

“Thanks, Hannah. Nice talking to you.”

“Yeah, I hope we can speak again.”

~~~

The walk was scary to say the least. The whole time, Ross found himself looking over his shoulder to make sure nobody was following him. Every little noise made him jump, and every time he saw someone else on the sidewalk he found himself shying away until he was practically standing in the planter.

When he finally got to the address that was sent to him, he found himself practically sprinting up to the door. He knocked loudly and quickly, very anxious to get inside and be sure that nobody will kill him.

The whole side of the city was different than his own. It wasn’t as nice and clean as what he was used to. The houses seemed smaller with chipped and faded paint, and the usually green grass was somewhat overgrown and yellow. Everything just seemed  rundown.

The door finally opened, and he didn’t even get a chance to greet Smith, instead he was just yanked inside by his shirt. He came chest to chest with Smith, as the taller reached behind him to shut the door. Ross looked up to see Smith’s smiling face looking back down at him.

“Hello,” he grinned. His one hand cupped Ross’ cheek, the other settling on his waist. “Strange seeing you here.”

Ross laughed. “Is it? I recall you texting me and begging me to come suck your dick…”

“And you  _did_  come,” the redhead smirked. “And despite that sounding incredible, I am a classy fellow…” He paused when Ross scoffed. “... and therefore, we shall partake in a bit of foreplay. Also, we shouldn’t do this in the hallway.”

The dark-haired teen laughed, leaning up to place a soft kiss against Smith’s lips. “Where are your parents?”

“They both work late,” the redhead explained. “You’ll be gone before they get home, don’t worry.”

Smith guided him down a hallway. They passed a couple of doorways, leading to the kitchen or living room or bathroom. They stopped when they came to a closed door at the end of the hallway. It was painted white, slightly stained and chipping, but covered in posters of various bands and baseball players. Also a very cliche sign that stated:  **STAY OUT**  in big bolded letters.

Ross scoffed. “What a teenager you are.”

“Shut up,” the redhead huffed. “I don’t necessarily enjoy my parents busting into my room.”

“Nobody does,” Ross laughed.

When the door opened, Ross couldn’t even be surprised by the state it was in. It was apparent that the boy had tried to clean it, although he obviously didn’t succeed. You could see that clothes and wrappers were shoved under the bed, and the hamper by the wardrobe was overflowing with clothes. On top of the wardrobe, a large TV sat, GTA 5 paused on the screen. The walls of the room were a deep burgundy color, although they were mostly covered in pictures and posters.

“Welcome to my beloved dwelling, in which I never leave,” the redhead chuckled, bowing slightly and posing as if he was presenting a prize on a gameshow.

“Why am I not surprised by the mess,” Ross laughed, taking a step inside and allowing Smith to close the door behind him.

“It’s not  _that_  bad, excuse you,” the redhead pouted. “I even cleaned for you.”

“What?  _The_ Alex Smith, cleaned for me? I’m absolutely honored,” Ross gasped, clutching his chest as he plopped onto the bed. The whole room smelled like Smith, a scent he couldn’t quite describe as anything but deep and comforting.

“Shut up, at least I don’t have strict parents that probably force you to keep your room squeaky clean.”

“I don’t, I just choose not to live in a mess,” Ross shrugged.

“ _Why am I not surprised_ ,” Smith mocked plopping down next to Ross and scooting all the way back to the headboard. He leaned against his pillows, grabbing the controller that sat on the pillows. He tossed it to Ross. “You play GTA?”

Ross nodded, scooting back as well so he sat right besides Smith. He purposely sat just barely apart, his legs stretched but in a way that their knees couldn’t brush. He could swear he heard Smith huff slightly irritated, but pretending not to hear and resumed the game.

The boy was playing story mode, in the middle of a smaller mission.

“Oh, I’ve played this one,” Ross commented.

“Yeah, I just got the game a month ago…  _finally_. Saved up for it all by myself,” the boy smiled triumphantly.

Ross nodded. “You try online mode yet?”

“I don’t have Xbox live. My Gold Membership just ran out a couple weeks ago, haven’t gone and bought a new one yet.”

“Why not?”

“Haven’t had time… and the cheapest one is sixty bucks that I  _don’t_ have.”

Ross nodded. He decided not to mention that he had gotten his game as a gift. For the next twenty minutes, he was running around completing the mission. This was one of the ones that tripped him out the most. It had to do a lot with drugs, and man whatever this guy took was just fucking insane.

“Dude, this game is fucking weird,” Smith had laughed, shifting slightly in his spot.

Ross nodded. “When you play as Franklin, it’s the most I’ve ever heard anybody curse in one sentence.”

Smith nodded. “Yeah, honestly I was shocked when I first played it.”

“Also just, it’s… an interesting game, nonetheless.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.”

“Have you done any of the strip club missions yet,” Ross asked, raising an eyebrow.

Smith shook his head, awkwardly averting his gaze. “No I uh- didn’t realize they had a strip club.”

“Pft, liar,” Ross laughed, shaking his head. “Honestly, how many times you been in there.”

“Once, out of curiosity…  _never_  again,” Smith muttered, blushing slightly.  
  


“Aw, cute little innocent Smiffy.” Ross teased, nudging at Smith’s side. He was suddenly much closer, and he smirked when he noticed that the redhead had scooted over so that their legs were touching.

“Shut up, I’m just… not… it’s just awkward.”

Ross laughed. “Yeah, imagine for me, though… I went in there once as well with Ridge when he was over. I honestly didn’t understand why he thought it was amazing.”

“I’ll give you one word: straight.”

Ross shrugged. “True. What are you, anyway?”

Smith shrugged. The question was worded weirdly, but he understood. “I dunno... If I like ‘em, I like ‘em?”

“So like, no gender preference,” Ross questioned.

“Not really,” the redhead shrugged. “I’ve been told that I will get with anything that let’s me… which like, I know it’s supposed to be a joke, but kind of fucking hurts.”

“Yeah, that’s a bit harsh,” Ross nodded. “Some of the guys on my team are the same way. Like they ask: oh, do you have a boyfriend? And, I know it’s not supposed to mean anything. Yeah, I’m gay, I  _would_  have a boyfriend, but they ask in such a condescending and joking matter that it’s almost like they are making fun of it? I dunno, it’s stupid.”

“No, I get it. Teasing people over that shit is a shitty thing to do,” the redhead muttered.

“I don’t even think they know they are doing it though, so you can’t exactly blame them.” At this point, Ross had set the controller down beside him. He was leaning into Smith’s touch, pretty much resting his head on his arm.

There was a moment of silence, just the sound of the game and their breathing. It was nice and peaceful, both of them scooting into each other’s warmth.

“You know, I’m really sorry for being an asshole before, right?”

Ross nodded. “Yeah, I get it… I don’t blame you for… acting that way.”

“You should though, that’s a shitty thing to do.”

The dark-haired boy shrugged. “Maybe so, but I forgive you.”

“Why?”

Ross licked his lips. He wasn’t sure exactly why, now that he thought about it. “Because I like you, I guess?”

Smith blushed, fidgeting slightly and laughing. “Oh.”

“Is it that much of a surprise?”

Smith shook his head. “No… Considering we made out in a storage closet a couple days ago.”

Ross laughed, his cheeks growing hot at the memory. “Yeah…”

“You know what?”

“Hm?”

“Maybe we should like, snog a bit in here too, because…” Smith trailed off, turning his head to look at Ross.

“There doesn’t need to be a reason,” Ross grinned, looking back at Smith and raising his eyebrows.

Smith laughed, his smile widening as Ross shifted onto his knees, bringing his other leg to swing over Smith’s lap. He settled onto the boy’s thighs, feeling the denim underneath his skin and smiling as he scooted closer.

“Hello,” Smith smirked, leaning back and reaching up to cup Ross’ cheek.

Ross leaned into the touch, smiling back. “Hey.” He licked his lips, before leaning into Smith’s lips.

It started as a cute press of lips, innocent and fast. They pulled away for only a second, a smile splitting their lips as they leaned forward again. Ross adjusted himself on Smith’s lap, fitting himself so that he was pressed right into the little space where Smith’s abdomen and legs met. His hands gripped Smith’s shoulders, pulling him closer when their lips met.

Their lips found an easy rhythm, only the sounds of easy sighs and shifting fabric in their ears. The sound of GTA had been easily drowned out in favor to listen to the quiet noises the other made as they kissed.

Smith’s hands found their way back to Ross’ waist, settling underneath the fabric of his shirt and tracing patterns on his bare skin. Ross shuddered, his lips opening wider against Smith’s own in an attempt for more contact.

Both of their bodies were warm to touch, due to many different factors. The way the room was just a bit stuffy, maybe due to the weather outside. But both of them were fairly sure it was just themselves reacting to the other’s touch, to the press of lips and the way their bodies were pressed together.

Smith pulled away for a short moment, to take a deep breath and whisper into the air around them. “You’re a very good kisser.” His lips were pink from kissing, his skin wet and his mouth eager to press against Ross’ again.

“I could say the same to you,” Ross giggled, breathlessly, before leaning in again.

They took up a more frantic kiss, one of lingering presses of hands in a more suggestive way. Ross’ hands had wrapped around Smith’s neck, tugging insistently on the red tangles of hair. The first tug gained a reaction out of Smith, the boy moaning into his lips and pressing his harder against Ross’. He continued his ministrations, allowing the boy underneath him to be broken into a desperate state.

The redhead’s hands held Ross’ waist tighter, his fingers pressing into the soft skin. His hands even dared to dip down, under the line of his jeans so that only a his boxers were in between his touch and Ross’ skin. The dark-haired boy jumped at the sudden contact, but didn’t seem to object. He only tugged at Smith’s hair a little harder, prompting another moan.

Ross pulled away, his breath ghosting over Smith’s lip. “Fuck, Smith.” His voice was more of a hiss, and it wasn’t hard for Smith to figure out why. He could feel the warm bulge in Ross’ shorts, pushing against his own stomach. Smith only laughed breathlessly, gently pressing his lips against Ross’ in a quick kiss.

“Remember what I texted you earlier,” he chuckled, looking up at Ross in a sort of question.

Ross gulped, feeling his heart race under his skin. He took a deep breath, suddenly finding it sort of hard when looking right into Smith’s eyes.

“H-honestly, I-I’ve never really…” he trailed off, his voice nervous stammers.

“That’s okay,” Smith shrugged, smiling up at Ross. It was a genuine smile, one that made the corners of his eyes crease. “I don’t mind, it’s… up to you though.”

Ross licked his lips again, out of nervous habit. He took a deep breath before nodding, blushing when Smith’s smile grew.

“Is that a yes,” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Ross nodded. His voice was more of a croak than anything, and he could hear the way his voice was tinged with the arousal he felt in his stomach. He closed his eyes, more out of a sort of nervousness.

Smith just chuckled, sitting up straight again and leaning forward into Ross. His hands held him steady, and could feel the boy buzzing under his fingertips.

“Relax, alright? If you want to stop, tell me,” Smith murmured, his voice a soft whisper. Ross nodded, sucking in a deep breath when he felt Smith right next to his ear.

A pair of lips pressed into his skin, right under his ear. It made him jump, and his hands that were swung around his neck tightened their grip on his skin. He wasn’t sure why his body was reacting to his touches in such a way. He had done this part before, the kissing and sucking hickies into someone's neck. It had always come so easily to him, but suddenly it wasn’t.

Maybe it was because he knew what they were about to do. Maybe it was because it was Smith, it was Alex Smith. And maybe the Alex Smith part was more complicated in that he was a Westie, and that he felt so strange around the boy. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this, and yet he was. Yet he was here, sitting in a Westie’s house and allowing him to kiss at his neck, to touch him, and his body was definitely very okay with it.

Ross gasped, stretching his neck so that Smith had more room. The little kisses and nips at his neck felt so good, the way his tongue dipped and licked along his skin, warm and wet. Smith’s fingers tensed, slipping down further to cup Ross’ butt through his boxers.

Ross groaned, feeling the teeth on his skin and the way the redhead sucked on his neck. He seemed to know what he was doing, seemed to have a sort of experience that Ross never had. Sure he had gave a guy some hickies before, and sure he had a share of his own. But  _Goddamn_.

His breath was fast, and he thought his heart might beat out of his chest. His whole body was restless, his knees squeezing together on either side of Smith and his muscles trembling under his skin. Ross could feel the arousal in his stomach, feel the way every move Smith made caused the feeling to intensify.

Smith smirked into his neck, moving his lips to another spot. Ross was very sensitive, the way he gasped and whimpered with every little touch of his mouth. Not that Smith wasn’t affected at all. He had his own erection pressing against his jeans, and had his own need for  _something_  to happen with Ross.

“S-Smith,” Ross whimpered, shifting his hips and gasping. It was accidental, but definitely made Smith moan into the skin of his neck.

The redhead pulled away, his eyes running over Ross’ pale skin that was littered with the little red marks. He smirked, somewhat proud of himself as he removed one hand from Ross’ jeans. He replaced it on his waist, and held him close as he pushed his hips upwards, eliciting in a groan from both of them.

Ross’ hands pulled away from Smith’s neck, sliding towards his shoulders where they clamped down. Their hips rutted against each other, mostly Smith upwards and Ross awkwardly trying to reciprocate. Gasps and moans bled into the warm air around them.

Smith suddenly stopped, holding Ross’ hips still. He looked up at Ross, his eyes no longer a light blue, now only a thin ring around a mostly dark pupil. “God, Ross,” he breathed out, a smile on his face. He pushed at his hips slightly. “Here, get up.”

Ross obliged, awkwardly moving to the side so he was sitting beside Smith with his legs crossed. His chest was heaving, with his face painted a light pink. He licked his lips, watching as Smith turned to face him, on his knees and smirking.

“Lean back, alright?”

Ross nodded, doing as he was told and letting Smith spread his legs. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Smith settled between his legs and smiled up at him. His hair was an utter mess, even more than usual, the curls of red very much out of order.

“You still okay with this,” he asked, raising an eyebrow. His hands hovered over the button and zipper of Ross’ shorts.

Ross nodded again, not trusting his own voice to speak any sense. His eyes followed the movements of Smith’s hands, the way his palm pushed up against the bulge and pleasure shot through his body. His toes curled in his shoes and his fingers gripped the sheets. Smith’s fingers deftly undid the button, pulling the zipper down and then proceeding to pull Ross’ shorts down to his knees.

The boy let out a groan of relief, his erection creating a tent in his blue boxers. Smith smiled at the sight, his hand pressing just above the bulge and causing Ross’ breath to hitch. His hips bucked upwards, trying to get any sort of contact, not finding any and dropping back down to the bed in defeat.

“Smith, fucking hurry,” Ross whimpered. His voice was a rasp, one that sent shivers down Smith’s spine and immediately made him oblige. His fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, pulling down so that they gathered with his shorts by his knees.

Smith smiled, sparing a glance back up at Ross, who was blushing even more with the sudden exposure. His dick was flushed a pretty pink, stiff and beading precome at the tip.

“Damn Ross, didn’t know you were  _this_  excited,” Smith teased, his fingers wrapping around the base of the boy’s cock.

Ross groaned, his head falling back and his eyes closing. Pleasure burst through him, almost unbearable. This was  _much_  different to jerking off, and  _much_  better. “Fucking- stop teasing,” he moaned, kicking his leg at Smith’s side with slight irritation.

“Jeesh, okay,” the boy laughed. He propped another hand right on his bed for more support as he leaned down. His breath ghosted over Ross’ dick for only a moment before his tongue ran along the head.

Ross gasped, loud and followed by a moan. His back arched, his hips snapping upwards and as a result pushing more of himself into Smith’s mouth. Smith guided Ross back towards the bed, moving the hand that was holding his dick to his hips to hold Ross down.

His mouth moved down on his length, his mouth a wonderful wetness along his skin. Ross groaned, his mind aflame and his body overwhelmed with the pleasure. The redhead obviously knew what he was doing, bobbing his head up and down in Ross’ lap.

The dark-haired teen could feel the feeling in his stomach tighten, feel his whole body tense and each movement suddenly become a bit more pleasurable. “Holy shit,  _Smith_ ,” he moaned, his back once again arching up from the bed and his hips moving up against Smith’s hand. He came into Smith’s mouth, his hands tightening in the sheets and his whole body jumping again. His breath came out ragged, his head falling back against the bedsheets with wide eyes.

Smith pulled off, licking his lips and looking over at Ross. “You okay?”

The boy nodded. “Mate, I didn’t realize that you actually fucking knew what you were doing.” His hand rested lazily on his stomach, and he warily looked up at Smith.

Smith laughed, shrugging. “Maybe I do get with anything that let’s me, huh.”

Ross smiled, looking over the redhead. Smith had his own hand resting over the bulge in his jeans, which was partially exposed with the button of his jeans undone and his zipper pulled down.

Ross sat up, awkwardly pulling his boxers and pants back up. He scooted closer to Smith and with a newfound confidence, leaned forward for a kiss. It wasn’t as heated as before, more gentle and slow. Their lips were gentle, moving against each other in a way which showed a sort of tired care. He tried to ignore the salty taste on his lips, tried to avoid thinking about  _what it was_.

Smith’s hand found Ross’ blindly. He rested his palm on the back of his hand, and laced their fingers together. He guided Ross’ hand towards his erection, groaning when his palm was pushed up against the flushed skin through the fabric of his boxers.

Ross smiled into the kiss, pushing down carefully with his palm, somewhat hesitant and afraid to hurt him as well. Smith’s hand pulled away, both of them instead cupping Ross’ face to pull his lips closer.

He bucked up into Ross’ touch, slightly impatient and trying to get more pressure onto his dick.

“Ross, you won’t hurt me,” he murmured against his lips, gasping when Ross’ hand pushed down harder.

Ross was still careful, despite Smith’s reassurances. His hand did creep into Smith’s boxers, feeling the flushed skin under his touch. The redhead moaned into his lips, the hands on his face pulling him closer.

“Here, slide your jeans down,” Ross whispered, pulling his hand back and pulling away from the kiss. He hurried as he helped Smith pull his pants down, just enough so that his boxers were visible. His hand returned to it’s place, wrapped around his length and moving up and down in a steady rhythm.

Instead of returning to a kiss however, Ross watched Smith’s face contort in pleasure. The redhead’s eyes were shut tight, his mouth open with groans and hisses flowing out. There were occasional praises, occasional curses that were whispered as if he was praying to God.

Ross’ hand sped up, finding new ways to get Smith’s hips to jump and his hands scramble to clutch at Ross. His hand twisted occasionally, his thumbs rubbing over the tip of the shaft.

“God, faster Ross- I’m close, please.” The words tumbled from his mouth in broken sentences, although Ross understood. In fact, he seemed to understand a little better when Smith was right on the edge as his hand rubbed up and down his cock. His hand sped up, and within moments Smith had doubled over, moaning loudly. Ross felt a wet stickiness on his hand, and he momentarily found it disgusting as he pulled his hand from Smith’s boxers.

He looked at the white on his hand, with slight distaste. His gaze went back to Smith, who was breathing heavy and looking back at him with half-lidded eyes. He smiled, the smile that made his eyes crease and made Ross feel all fuzzy inside.

“That was… good,” Ross muttered, his words both a statement and a question.

Smith nodded. “Very, especially for someone that has never done that before, Jesus Christ, Ross.”

Ross hummed, looking towards the window on the wall across the room. The sky was still bright, not yet resembling a sunset. “What time is it?”

Smith shrugged. “Check yourself, where’s your phone?”

“I can’t exactly with…  _this_ ,” Ross muttered, gesturing towards his fingers which were still covered in cum.

“Oh,” Smith laughed. He grabbed Ross’ wrist, pulling it towards his mouth and sucking on each digit.

Ross’ eyes widened. “Did you just-”

“Mate, I just sucked your dick it honestly isn’t a big deal,” the redhead laughed, shaking his head and sitting up. “Although… I do need tissues for this, unless you want to lick me clean?”

“I’ll pass,” Ross mumbled, wiping his hand on the blankets as he reached for his phone. “Wow, it’s only five…”

“Felt like a lot longer, huh,” Smith chuckled. He stood from the bed, walking over towards the wardrobe where a box of tissues was. He dropped his jeans and boxers, grabbing the tissue and wiping himself up.

Ross averted his gaze, instead looking back towards his phone. There was really no point, being that he had literally just did /that/ with Smith, but he still found that it was necessary to give him privacy.

His phone showed that Trott had texted him twice.

_From Trott:_

_Mate, you still going over to that guy’s house?_

_From Trott:_

_Did you suck his dick?_

_Ross laughed._

_To Trott:_

_No he sucked mine_

He tucked his phone away, and looked back at Smith who was once again fully dressed, in a new pair of jeans.

“So, why was your practice canceled?”

“Well, apparently, it was uncanceled,” Ross replied. “But, I’d rather hang with you so I just skipped out.”

Smith nodded. “What was your excuse?”

“That I had to go see someone, but… I’m pretty sure they all know I went to go see a boyfriend of some sort… even Trott knows I have…  _someone_ , just not that it’s you. He also knows that I was coming to that person’s place today.”

Smith smirked. “Does this mean I’m your boyfriend?”

Ross licked his lips, thinking for a moment before replying. “Well, you did just suck my dick and I wanked your’s so…”


	8. Chapter 8

"So, how was it," Trott asked, nudging at the boy's side. They sat on the bleachers on Wednesday, which was their day to practice so there wouldn't be any West Siders around.

"Good," Ross shrugged, as if it were no big deal. Although it was, it very much was, and that was made apparent to Trott by the way he flushed a smile spread across his lips.

"So, I'm assuming he doesn't /actually/ live out of town," the brunet muttered, his eyes going back towards the field where the others practiced.

Ross shook his head. "No. Thanks for covering, by the way. You're a life saver."

"So, that means they are a Westie then?"

Ross froze, glancing at Trott whose eyes  seemed trained on the field. "No? Where would you get that idea?"

"Well, that's the only reason I could think of, otherwise why would you hide it," Trott explained. "I mean, you don't have to tell me... But, if you ever want to talk I'm here."

Ross nodded, thankful that he didn't press on the matter much. "Maybe another time, I'd have to ask him."

"You know I might know him," Trot hummed. "Does he play, or is he at the field a lot?"

Ross hummed, nodding. He wasn't going to lie, that was a whole other situation. There's a difference between keeping a secret and straight up lying. He took out his phone as he did so, planning to send Smith a quick text asking him again. He really did want to tell Trott, he thought it would make him happy that they definitely resolved the issue.

"Wait, so it's somebody on the team then?"

Ross nodded again, biting his lip as he sent a quick message to Smith.

_To Smith:_

_Trott is getting suspicious... Why can't I just tell him?_

There was no reply right away, like he had hoped. Instead, he spotted Trott trying to get a peek at his screen. He flinched away, quickly blocking his view.

"Now, I'm trying to get into the mind of Ross Hornby," Trott chuckled. "Who would you like... Hmm... Most of the team is dating somebody... Except for... I guess Lewis and Martyn... But..."

"It's not-" Ross was about to reply, but was cut off by a shout from the field.

"Ross," Ridge called. "Can you be catcher for Kim?"

Ross nodded, muttering an apology to Trott as he stood. He left his things on the bench, and jogged out to the field.

Trott watched him go, biting his lip and waiting. His mind was debating on whether to go through the boy's phone or not. That would be a terrible waste of trust, but also would be satisfying just to see who it was.

"No, I can't," Trott muttered to himself, shoving his hands back into his lap and glancing away from the phone.

~~~

_From Smith:_

_I guess we could it cant do any harm. Hannah and Nilesy already know, but id rather wait and tell him with you_

Ross smiled at the text, his cheeks turning pink as he thought of Smith being all adorable. The fact that at this point the only reason he wanted to wait was so that they could do it together was already cute, but the fact that it was Smith made it so much better.

“Are you texting him,” Nilesy questioned, nudging at Ross’ side.

The field was empty now, being that it was late and everybody had gone home. Ross was supposed to go home with Trott, but Trott had claimed he was tired and wanted to go back early.

Now Ross sat with Nilesy, enjoying a milkshake and typing on his phone. He nodded, glancing over at Nilesy.

“We might tell Trott,” he explained,”Just, the way he said it was pretty adorable.”

The other boy raised an eyebrow, straightening his glasses. “Alex Smith, being  _adorable_? Ross Hornby, you have worked wonders on that boy.”

The dark-haired boy chuckled, shaking his head. “Or maybe he’s only adorable to me, I don’t know,” he shrugged.

“Mm,” Nilesy hummed. “It’s pretty adorable, you know… and if you both ever wanted to meet up and hang out, I’d let you in the storage closet.”

Ross laughed. “Thanks mate, but, I don’t think we could follow the no sex rule, or at least Smith couldn’t.”

Nilesy raised an eyebrow. “Did you two already do something?”

Ross nodded. “Yeah.”

“ _Already_? Ross, it’s been like a week, that’s a bit fast.”

“It was just a blowjob, that’s not too serious.”

“But  _still_.”

Ross sighed. “Listen, Nilesy. It’s fine, okay?”

Nilesy sighed, biting his lip. “Okay, just… stay safe, alright?”

~~~

“Your house is like,  _really_  nice.” Smith looks around in a sort of awe, staring at the light colored walls and the way everything looked so clean and calm. The pictures on the walls were more art than anything, beautiful paintings and even objects just pasted into frames.

Everything looked so modern, with light colors and carefully placed rich-colors to contrast. The light blue couch with the dark brown coffee table that almost looked black, with the white rug over the floorboards. Everything was so incredible. The chandelier made Smith do a double take, and so did the hard granite countertops in the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Ross shrugged. “My dad is really into decorating.”

“What does your dad do?” The redhead had wrapped his hand around the smooth wooden banister, feeling the cold wood under his palm.

“Architect. My mum’s a teacher at the primary school,” Ross explained.

Smith nodded, slowly walking up the stairs with Ross following close behind him. “Sometimes I forget how rich you are,” he muttered as he reached the landing of the stairs, peeking around the top floor of the house. He could see what looked like a loft around the corner, and three other doors.

“Honestly, we aren’t  _that_  rich,” Ross sighed. “Just have good taste.”

Smith scoffed, rolling his eyes. Ross reached around his waist, guiding him towards one of the doors that was right  next to the loft. The door was opened, and the nice clean room that was unveiled almost made Smith jealous.

The color was a light blue, similar to the one used on the couch downstairs, but a bit darker and comfier. His bed was made, with white sheets underneath a black quilt. His walls were covered in posters, which was somewhat of a relief. Mostly video games, different bands that Smith recognized, even just some that were just abstract pictures that were randomly hung up. There was a large TV that hung from the wall, with an Xbox and Playstation underneath it, sitting on a dark wooden dresser.

“Mate, this is just unfair,” Smith murmured under his breath, shaking his head.

“Shush. Ignore it,” Ross huffed, shoving at the redhead with a smirk. He instead jumped forward onto his bed, face planting into the sheets. He raised his arm, awkwardly gesturing for smith to join him.

The redhead laughed, stepping closer to the bed. It was strongly scented of  _Ross_ , sweet and peaceful, just making him smile. He sat down, as opposed to face planting, and scooted back onto the pillows so that Ross laid next to him.

His hand went to the back of Ross’ head, running his fingers to the short strands that he could feel were slightly sticky with gel. He smiled nonetheless, and it just got wider when he heard Ross’ voice muffled by the mattress say “Don’t stop.”

“God, you are amazing,” Smith laughed, his hand trailing down his neck and back up to his head. His fingers traced light patterns along the skin, and when Ross shifted so that his cheek was pressed up against the mattress, he started chasing over his cheek and his jaw.

“What are you doing, Smith,” Ross laughed, turning over and staring at the redhead quizzically.

“Trying to touch you a lot, just, not in that way,” Smith murmured, earning a raised eyebrow from Ross.

“You’re kidding? Alex Smith,  _n_ ot being dirty.”

Smith blushed. “It’s just, I don’t have to make dirty jokes. I sucked your dick yesterday, and… now I just kind of want to cuddle.”

“Wow, I  _did_  turn Smith into a softie,” Ross laughed, sitting up completely and leaning into Smith’s side.

Smith yelped, nudging at the boy’s side.. “Oi! Who said that?”

“Nilesy,” Ross hummed, rubbing his cheek onto Smith’s shoulder.

Smith nodded, muttering something about being warm as he slipped off his jacket before continuing with the conversation. He dropped the garment on the pillows behind him. “That’s not true.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a softie, Smith. I’m just happy you don’t hate my guts anymore,” Ross laughed.

“I never hated your guts,” Smith sighed. “I might’ve hated your other friends’ guts, but… you were too cute to hate.”

Ross smiled, looking up at Smith. “I can say the same to you.”

Smith’s phone suddenly buzzed, making Ross jump and practically fall off of the bed.

“Whoah, you alright,” Smith asked, looking concerned as he reached into his pocket.

“Yeah, I’m always jumpy,” Ross shrugged. “Who is it?”

“Trott,” Smith replied.

_From Chris Trott:_

_I’m going over to Ross’ place right now. Do you want to come over?_

Smith’s eyes widened,”Oh shit. Trott’s coming over?”

Ross’ brow furrowed. “No?”

His phone rang as well, and he quickly grabbed it.

_From Chris Trott:_

_I’m coming over._

Within moments, he heard the doorbell to his house ring, echoing through the whole house. Smith jumped up.

“Shit, Shit…”

“Smith, it’s okay… I mean, I guess we can tell him now, remember, you said you wanted to do it with me.”

“Not now, not like this. He might get upset that he didn’t know, and that I came over without saying anything,” Smith muttered. “I gotta hide.”

Ross sighed. “He wouldn’t, but… I guess you can hide in the closet?”

Smith glanced over at the door in the corner, quickly striding forward and opening it. His eyes widened. “Now I see why your room is so clean, all of your shit is in here.”

Ross huffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going to go get the door, just… be quiet!”

Smith nodded, shoving himself in the closet and closing the door behind it. He only left a little slit of it open, just so that the light could bleed through and he could see what was happening.

Within moments, he heard voices, getting louder and louder as shoes stomped up the stairs. The door was flung open, and he watched as Trott walked forward and plopped himself onto Smith’s bed.

“Yeah, Smith hasn’t actually talked to me in a while,” the brunet muttered with a sigh. “I don’t know why, I mean, did he mention anything to you?”

Ross shook his head. “No. He honestly doesn’t talk to me much.”

Trott nodded, biting his lip and looking somewhat grave. “I hope he’s okay, I don’t know why he  _wouldn’t_  be, but… Smith is a sensitive guy, believe it or not.”

Ross shrugged. “I… I can believe it.” He shot a quick glance backwards, his eyes focusing on the closet momentarily before looking back at Trott.

“I texted him asking if he wanted to come over, didn’t answer yet.”

“I’d understand if he didn’t. I know we are cool now, but… he doesn’t seem too  _okay_  with the whole rich thing.”

Trott laughed. “Baby steps, at least he doesn’t hate you anymore.”

“He never did,” Ross shook his head.

Trott shot him a quizzical look. “Wait, who told you that?”

Ross’ eyes widened. “I- uh… I mean, I was told by Nilesy. He just said th-that Smith was holding some grudges, y-ya know.” He smiled somewhat nervously, running his hand through his hair.

Trott nodded. “Yeah…” His eyes scanned the room, his eyes momentarily catching on the closet before looking away. He looked behind him, his eyes scanning the bed. He paused when he spotted the jacket on the pillows.

Ross’ stomach dropped, and he felt himself almost freeze.

“What’s this,” Trott muttered, picking up the jacket and holding it up. “This… Smith has one exactly like it.”

“O-oh really? That’s weird,” Ross laughed, glancing back at the closet with apparent worry.

“Yeah, except his has a rip on the… pocket…” Trott’s eyes narrowed as his fingers slipped through the pocket, wiggling around in the small hole. “Is this Smith’s jacket?”

“N-no,” the dark-haired boy spluttered. “That’s funny because I have a rip in mine too.”

The brunet looked up at him warily, looking Ross up and down with a somewhat curious look. As he did so, Ross watched in horror as the confusion seemed to fade away into a sort of understanding, until Trott’s jaw had dropped.

“Oh. My. God.” He looked shocked to say the least, clutching Smith’s jacket in his hand.

Ross bit his lip, fidgeting nervously as his fingers played with the bottom of his shirt. He didn’t dare say anything, just waited for Trott to speak.

“Ross… When was Smith over?”

“Er- right… right now,” Ross muttered, looking down at his feet. He felt his cheeks heat up, and could imagine the look of understanding on Trott’s face.

“Right now?”

Ross nodded.

“And… why?”

“Erm…” Ross sighed. “R-remember how  you said you  thought you knew the guy that I was with?”

Trott’s eyes widened.

“I guess, you knew him better than you thought.”

Trott opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. He stared at Ross with a dumb-founded expression, one that looked surprised and yet somewhat happy. He didn’t look upset at all, which was a relief.

“Wait, and you said he is here now? Like…  _right_  now?”

Ross nodded, looking back towards the closet. He could see the door shifting, and could see the flash of a shadow every once and a while. “Smith, just come out of the closet.”

There was a moment where everything was still, before the door opened and a sheepish Alex Smith stepped out. He shared the same blush that Ross did. He didn’t even really try to hide it, instead stepping right behind Ross and swinging an arm over his shoulder.

“Hey, Trotty. How are you?”

“You  _actually_  kissed him, Smith?”

Smith nodded. “Y-yeah… a bit more, as well.”

Trott’s face crinkled in disgust. “Aw, my two best friends are fucking.”

“Trott, if that’s all you are worried about…”

“Of course it is,” Trott smiled. “I’m- I’m happy for you guys. You both look like adorable dorks together… Just no making out when I’m over, okay?”

“I can oblige to that rule,” Ross laughed. “Smith on the other hand…”

“Oi! Listen… how dare you make me resist this,” Smith gasped, gesturing to Ross. Within moments he leaned around him, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

Trott yelped, his noise of surprise turning into a scream of disgust as he shielded his eyes. “I DON’T WANT TO SEE IT.”


	9. History Always Repeats Itself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me for this chapter.

Things hadn’t really changed much. Sure, Ross and Smith always sat together now as opposed to as far apart as possible, and were never too rude to each other anymore. Trott sat on the edge of the sofa, as opposed to the middle, still next to Smith. He would always look over at them when they weren’t paying attention, watching the way they acted with each other. It always made him smile. **  
**

It had seemed like Trott’s place was _really_  the only safe environment for them to hang out, altogether. They couldn’t risk Ross’ parents seeing Smith, and also couldn’t risk Smith’s parents seeing Ross. So, sleepovers were  _always_  at Trott’s house, which wasn’t terrible.

Trott occasionally complained because he couldn’t sleep with all of the sounds of them snogging, but after awhile they tried to keep it down. Trott always slept on his bed, and Smith and Ross somehow fit on the couch together.

Everything was going okay when spring faded into summer. When school ended, friends weren’t  _as_  big of a deal anymore. Smith only  _really_  saw any of his team during practices and games, and it was the same for Ross. Nobody got suspicious of Ross, luckily, but Smith was another story.

Smith wasn’t one to skip out on going to the diner, or going to the petrol station to get snacks and go to a movie. Trott usually wasn’t either, and two weeks of being sick was  _far_  too long. Luckily, Hannah and Nilesy were always there to appease their worries.

Hannah would claim that the two were bonding, that maybe they were even together now. Nobody really pressed on that, and if they did, Smith and Trott always went along with it. It wasn’t that hard to pretend, and it’s not like Ross cared. The one time they went out with the gang during the first couple weeks of summer, they had sat next to each other and even held hands at one point (obvious enough that at least one of their friends had noticed).

Nilesy always remained neutral, saying that nothing was wrong. He always said that they hadn’t mentioned anything, and considering that he was sort of the person that everyone would trust with their secrets, everyone believed him.

The only issue with the three friends spending time together, was that they could never really go out. On the East Side of town, Smith would definitely be recognized. He doesn’t have nice clothes, and just screams Westie in every shape, way, and form. Ross wouldn’t be as recognizable on the West Side, but if one of the team members were to go out, well he would stand out like sore thumb.

They had to take precautions. Smith always arrived and went straight into the house, not aloud to go outside until he was leaving. Even then, he practically ran home. He avoided making eye contact, walked home using alleyways as opposed to main roads. The few times Ross had gone to his house, he took the public bus as far as he could go, before quickly making his way on foot towards Smith. No matter what, there was always a chance of them getting caught- and that would end  _terribly_.

~~~

“They are just getting worse and worse.”

Smith glanced up from his cleats, taking a chug of the water bottle and glancing up at his team. The rest of them looked just as worn out as he was. They had an intense practice, full of nonstop running and throwing drills. Doesn’t seem terrible, but with the weather as hot as it was, it was like hell.

“What do ya mean?”

“Oh that’s right,” Lewis chuckled rolling his eyes. “Smith has been Mr. Antisocial lately, hasn’t been with us when we go anywhere.”

Smith sighed. He didn’t particularly like that word, but he didn’t say anything. “Well, you gonna tell me?”

“Er- maybe we shouldn’t. Don’t wanna get him upset,” Will cut in, staring sternly at Lewis.

“Well, you gotta tell him now,” Martyn laughed. “Last time we went to the cinema, the big bad pricks were there too. We almost got into a fist fight.”

Smith winced, biting his lip. “Why?”

“Insulting us, egging us on. I swear the amount of times that, the Yorkshire prick called  _us_  bums…” Lewis huffed, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, I’m done. Smith, ever since you’ve been skipping out they’ve gotten a lot more… aggressive.”

The redhead’s brow furrowed. “Are you suggesting that they were scared of me? That’s why they never started anything before?”

Lewis nodded. “Listen, I  _know_  you’ve been with Trott and all, but maybe have him come out with us some time, yeah? We are heading to the cinema tomorrow, hopefully they won’t be there… but in case-”

“Er- I dunno if Trott’ll want to go,” Smith shook his head. “Still isn’t feeling great.”

“Must be feeling good enough to be snogging you, Smith,” Parv cackled from behind him, nudging at the redhead’s shoulder.

“That’s not-”

“Don’t even pull that shit with us,” Lewis muttered, staring pointedly at Smith. “We saw you both holding hands awhile back, I was surprised you didn’t start snogging right then and there. Plus- he was fine  _then_.”

“But-”

“No buts, both of you come tomorrow. I want to watch a movie without being harassed, you know the cinema is more on the East Side than the West.”

~~~

“Are you sure about this,” Trott asked, slipping on one of his older leather jackets. The black was faded to a deep grey, but it was the only thing he really had to somewhat blend in with the West Siders. His other clothes were all brand new, and he wasn’t even sure why he kept the jacket.

“Yes,” Smith nodded. “Ross said that they had practice today, so they shouldn’t bother us. Plus, it’ll keep ‘em off our backs.”

“Do I still gotta pretend like I enjoy your dick,” Trott huffed, turning around to see Smith fixing his hair in his mirror.

They stood in his room, which was just as much of a mess as he remembered. It faintly smelled of Ross, and Trott had spotted the extra pair of clothes that the boy had left here. They were almost too adorable together, at least in Trott’s opinion.

“What do you mean  _pretend_ ,” Smith chuckled. “You  _do_  love it, remember? Now, the boys should be here in five minutes. Apparently- Will got a car  _finally_.”

“One that we can all fit in,” the brunet asked, straightening his glasses.

Smith hummed, nodding as he turned to face the brunet. “Look at you, all Westie in your jacket.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up,” Trott muttered, shoving at Smith playfully.

There was the sound of honking from outside, and Smith smiled down at Trott, offering his hand. “Are you ready to go snog at a movie theater.”

“I am  _not_ ,” Trott murmured, grabbing Smith’s hand.

~~~

The cinema was empty, surprisingly. Smith and Trott had taken up seats on the edge of the row all the way at the top with Lewis, Martyn, Sjin, Sips, Parv, and Will taking up the rest. The movie hadn’t started yet, and had just been playing commercials for the past ten minutes. They were all chatting loudly, laughing and throwing popcorn at each other from across the cinema.

“So, Sjin and Sips, plan on snogging at all,” Lewis asked, looking over at the couple with raised eyebrows.

Sjin rolled his eyes. “Do you even need to ask, Lewis?” Sips smirked, swinging his arm over the brunet’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Lewis. I know you want to watch, no need to be all weird about it,” the boy chuckled, his voice calm as always as he seemed to stretch out each vowel of the words.

“What about you guys,” Sjin jabbed, eyeing Smith and Trott. “Any kissing?”

“Nah, Trott /actually/ wants to watch the movie,” the redhead grumbled, faking an irritated composure as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“C’mon Trotty, give the boy what he wants,” Parv grinned.

“Nah,” the brunet shook his head. “Honestly, the movie  _is_  supposed to be good.”

They had continued on with their playful banter, laughing and giggling as the commercials changed from sneak peaks and boring things, to better and more exciting movies that had gained their attention. For a good ten minutes their eyes were glued to the screen, with no interruptions.

Of course, all good things come to an end, and what had happened was probably the worse thing possible. Trott’s eyes widened, halfway putting a piece of popcorn in his mouth when he spotted the group moving into the cinema.

Trott nudged Smith, pointing to the group whose laughter seemed to stop when they spotted them along the top row. Even in the dim light, it was easy to pick out the different East Siders. Trott quickly ducked down, trying not to draw attention to himself as he covered his face and looked away.

“Oh great,” Lewis groaned. “At least we got Smith to scare him off, am I right?”

Smith nodded, nervously scanning the group. His heart tightened when he spotted Ross, who was also staring right at him. They shared a look of confusion and worry, as they both glanced at Trott who was currently just a dark lump of shadow.

The East Siders eventually took their seats, even with their annoyed mutters. Smith silently counted them, realizing that  _each_  one of them had come. He particularly watched Rythian, Strippin, and Duncan, realizing that it’d probably come down to a three versus two with Sips fighting alongside him.

As the movie started, some of the worry of any conflict was forgotten. Trott still didn’t dare to really show his face, and was practically hiding under the seat by the end of it. Smith didn’t watch the movie at all, more focused on watching for any sudden movements or strange behavior. He was pretty sure everyone in the theater was on edge, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

The movie came to a close quicker than anticipated, and it seemed like nobody really wanted to move. Smith shared worried glances with the rest of his team, waiting for them to get up and leave. After five minutes, it was apparent that they wanted to leave  _after_  them, which raised many more issues.

“Alright,” Smith leaned down close to Trott. “Just, stay in the middle, don’t look at them. I’ll put my arm around your shoulder- they’ll never know.”

The brunet nodded, and with a tense moment of silence finally stood. Smith joined him, motioning for the others to do the same. They awkwardly shuffled down the velvet steps, never taking their eyes of the group which seemed to be watching them intently. Their pace was fast, and by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs they were ready to sprint out of there.

“Ooh! Who is with Smith?” The voice called from behind him, making the whole team wince. They knew it was Turps, the voice unmistakable and making all of them pull faces of disgust.

Another voice followed his. “Turps, don’t.” It was firm and stoic, and both Smith and Trott easily recognized it as Ross.

“What? I’m just curious- whoah whoah whoah, ladies… where you going so soon?” They could almost hear the smirk on his lips.

Will was the one that stopped, turning back to glance at them. “W-we don’t want any trouble, alright? We are  _leaving_.”

“I see you brought Smith for protection… you  _really_  think he can do much,” Turps scoffed.

“Really don’t think you should be talking, Turps. Considering that  _you_  could be easily taken down by a little girl,” Lewis huffed, turning as well. “How about you all mind your own fucking business, and leave us be? We didn’t do shit.”

“Ooh, feisty lad,” Ridge laughed, raising an eyebrow at Lewis. “Calm down, Brindley.”

“Fuck off, Ridge,” the shorter boy hissed.

“Guys, c’mon, don’t even,” Ross pressed again. “Let them go, no fights.”

“I think we should wait for Smith to prompt something, we know he’s gonna,” Ridge chuckled. “Who you got there, Smiffy? Another little slut to fuck?”

Smith bit his lip, glancing over at Trott who was shaking his head. The redhead took a deep breath, instead resuming his walk out of the cinema.

“Oi! Don’t ignore me. Tell me who he is, maybe hook me up with him sometime, ya know?”

“Hey,” Will barked. “You shut your fucking mouth.” He took a step forward. “Don’t start something.”

“William, why so focused on protecting Smith’s boy? Watch over your own, never know if something is gonna happen to him,” Ridge smirked. His eyes glanced over at Parv, who stood back nervously and fiddled with hi scarf.

“Is that a fucking threat,” Will hissed.

“Want it to be?” There was a sound of shuffling, and as Smith glanced back he saw Ridge stand.

He immediately turned, stepping away from Trott and back towards the group.

“Okay, you… need a chill the fuck out, alright,” the redhead sighed, stepping in front of Will. The blond reluctantly stepped back, watching nervously as Smith stood there.

“For once, Smith isn’t starting something? Unbelievable…” Ridge scoffed. “Maybe it’s because you are dating Trott, huh?”

Smith bit his lip. He glanced back towards the rest of the East Siders behind Ridge, who looked shocked at the least. They looked at each other, murmuring in confusion. Kim even stood to get a better look at Trott, who was still facing the wall.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Smith hissed.

“Oh please, did you  _really_  think your little scheme would work? You  _really_ think I wouldn’t recognize him,” Ridge chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I know stuff about Trott that nobody else does.”

Smith growled, taking a step forward. “ _You_  shut your fucking mouth!”

“Here he is! Look guys, we have awoken the beast- all we had to do was mention his little slut of a boyfriend-” There was a sudden wooshing sound, followed by a loud  **THUNK**   and  **SLAP**  that rung throughout the movie theater.

Smith took a swing at Ridge, hitting him square on the cheek and knocking him backwards. His actions seemed to trigger a sudden chain reaction, the rest of the East Siders standing and taking a step forward.

There was a moment of tense silence as Ridge turned back, clutching his cheek. He looked shocked, hiding the initial pain behind a look of rage.

“You sonofabitch,” the teen spat. His eyes trailed behind Smith, finding Trott near the back. He looked at him with wide eyes, filled with rage and worry. “I’m a classy man,” Ridge smirked, shoving at Smith’s chest. “We will continue this,  _tonight_. Come to the field at midnight… and for the record- we aren’t gonna play  a game of ball.”

~~~

“WHAT THE HELL WAS HE TALKING ABOUT!”

Smith winced, looking down at his shoes. Trott stood beside him, biting his lip and looking back towards his friends. They all looked furious and confused.

“Trott, you are an East Sider,” Lewis questioned. “Please tell me that isn’t true.”

The brunet sighed. “I-I… I can’t… lie…”

“Unbelievable,” Sjin gasped. “You fucking traitor!”

“No! It’s not like that,” Smith cut in. “He’s still a Westie, ain’t that right, Trott?”

The brunet shrugged. “Er- well… I’m kind of like Nilesy now… neutral, ya know?”

“See,” Sjin exclaimed, taking a step forward. “He  _is_  a traitor! I bet he set the whole fucking thing up, told the East Siders where we’d be-”

“No he fucking didn’t,” Smith spat, gritting his teeth and taking a step forward. “Shut your fucking mouth, Sjin. You don’t know what you are fucking talking about.”

“Back off, Smiffy. I ain’t afraid to give you a good punch,” Sips warned, looking at the redhead who was  _much_  too close to Sjin for his liking.

“I think,” Will cut in, stepping between the two. “We all need to calm down, and get this story straight. Be honest, both of you…” Will sighed, looking between them. “Are you even dating, or was that a lie too?”

“Lie,” Smith sighed, taking a step back. “We were just- we didn’t want you all to get upset. Bottom line, Trott  _isn’t_  an East Sider. He is still all of our friends.”

“What about his new East Sider friends, huh?” Sjin muttered. “I don’t want you siding with them last minute.”

Trott sighed. “Only Ross,” the brunet sighed. “And you  _shouldn’t_  be worried about Ross.”

“Why not? Isn’t he the literal only one that could actually beat Smith… With our luck they’ll put them up together,” Lewis muttered.

“Ross won’t fight me, and I  _won’t_  fight Ross.”

“What? You going traitor then, Smith,” Sjin snarked.

“WILL YOU FUCKING STOP WITH THAT SHIT,” the redhead screamed. “ TRAITOR THIS, TRAITOR THAT. FUCKING CHILL YOURSELVES, THIS IS  _NOT_  A WAR.”

Silence followed his words, only the sound of heavy breathing.

“I  _bet_  you never expected me to say that,” Smith hissed. “But times have fucking changed… this rivalry  _is_  bullshit, you  _all_  know it.”

“But… But what about Trott’s-”

“That wasn’t  _us_ , that wasn’t  _them_  either,” Smith snapped. “The man who killed Trott’s brother is in jail forever. Now… we will go… and try to sort this out. I  _do not_  want to fight. I will  _only_  fight to defend, and will  _only_  defend from whoever is attacking… and I- I recommend you all do the same. We  _can_  talk it out, we can all become friends…”

“Ross is worried Smith,” Trott cut in, staring at the redhead. The brunet looked proud of the redhead, despite the way he looked nervous as he glanced down at his phone. He held his phone out to him, showing off his screen.

_From Ross:_

_I don’t think Smith will answer, but… are you both alright? honestly ridge deserved it… what a fucking dick. i don’t want to fight, okay? i want this to be fucking over… I will hopefully see you tonight._

Smith sighed, thankful that the boy was alright.. “If you call /this/ a threat, then you are fucking insane.”

~~~

“Ridge, I-I don’t know if I feel comfortable doing this,” Ross mumbled, looking down at the cold steel in his hands. He wanted to question how the boy even got the weapon, which looked clean and definitely unused. It was just a pistol, a dark grey color that he was told was fully loaded. The crazed look in Ridge’s eyes stopped him though, wanting to avoid being on the other side of the teen’s own barrel.

“What? Putting the disgusting filth back into their place,” he spat, staring at Ross like he was insane. Ross gulped, taking a step back.

“Th-they aren’t-”

“What? Are you siding with  _them_  now Ross,” Ridge snapped, poking at Ross’ chest.

The rest of the East Siders were gathered around, looking equally as afraid as Ross was. None of them were equipped with a weapon, and it made the dark-haired boy wonder why  _he_  was the one that got it.

“It’s just to scare ‘em, we won’t  _do_  anything.”

“I don’t… Ridge, how did you even  _get_  those? You have to be eighteen, don’t you? And… it takes years to get a licence for them,” Strippin questioned. He stood nearest to the door in the house they all stood in, Benji right by his side.

They were at Ridge’s mansion of a home. His parents were out for the whole week, apparently, and therefore wouldn’t “interrupt” them.

“Who said I have a license,” the boy huffed. “Listen, if everything goes right- we won’t even have to  _use_  them.”

“Well, I don’t want to… to  _fight_  them either. I-I… I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Ross stammered, looking at Ridge. Luckily the redhead was just the same height, otherwise Ross would’ve felt even more intimidated than he already was. He held out his right hand that the gun rest in, gesturing for Ridge to take it back.

Ridge snarled, snatching the gun back and then turning back to the others. “I guess… that we  _do_  have a traitor… Fucking brilliant. I thought you were one of the best guys, Ross-”

“Ridge, I’m just confused on /why/ you are acting like this all of the sudden?”

“I am tired of them stinking up the place. This is  _our_  town. This is  _ours_ , and the fact that they can’t just accept that…  _We_  are a different standard than them, a whole different level.” He paused, making a gesture with his hands. “We are up  _here_ ,” he held the hand with the gun grasped in it high in the air. “And they are down here.” He used his empty hand to gesture lower. “They don’t  _deserve_  anything…”

“Ridge… You are fucking insane, mate,” Turps murmured. “I-I… I don’t want to be a part of this. I’m leaving-”

“NOBODY IS LEAVING,” Ridge yelled, pointing the gun at the brunet.

Turps immediately jumped, holding up his hands as a shriek was heard from Kim.

“Don’t you  _get_  it,” the boy snapped. “They  _killed_  one of us, sent one of us to jail too! They didn’t deserve it... We  _don’t_  deserve to be around their  _kind_.”

“Ridge- what the fuck are you talking about,” Rythian finally spoke up. “Killed one of us?”

“That’s right… They killed, _one of us_ … They killed her out of spite, sent another to jail for just defense. The little pricks… they  _deserve_  it...”

Ross bit his lip.  _Was that what Hannah, and Smith, and Trott wouldn’t tell him?... But..._

“So who’s with me,” Ridge yelled, looking around the teenagers that gathered in the room. They all stood there nervously, fidgety and sharing glances. “C’mon, step forward… Let’s fight for our lost brothers-”

“This is sounding more and more like a cult,” Turps mumbled under his breath, yet stepping forward nonetheless. There was a sigh from around the room, and slowly everyone had stepped forward- with a gun pointed to their head.

~~~

The night was cool and crisp, the breeze rushing past them. The stars twinkled in the sky, and the moon shined down on them. Street lamps were turned on this late at night, basking the field in an eerie yellow glow.

They stood in lines, West Siders on one side and East Siders on the other. Trott and Nilesy stood outside the field, watching nervously with their hands ready to reach into their pockets call for help if anything went wrong.

There was an almost scary silence, one that nobody was looking too forward to breaking. Glares were shared from both sides, although the ones from the East Siders were forced.

Smith took a deep breath, looking down the line of people that stood next to him. These were his brothers, people that deserved better than this scum. He was tired of this, he was tired of everything. His eyes darted to Ross, who looked scared out of his mind. The boy looked helpless, staring at Smith with eyes that almost begged him to do /something/.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Smith finally spoke, taking a slight step forward. “Something obviously  _need_  to be done. I  _don’t_ want a fight, we don’t need to repeat history.”

Ridge just laughed. “Of course we don’t,” the man chuckled. “Although there won’t be, trust me. No East Siders are dying tonight…”

The redhead winced, nodding as he stared warily at the boy. “Well,  _nobody_  will. We can end this, peacefully. The whole rivalry, doesn’t even have to do with us. It was our brother’s, it was people that… that we haven’t even spoken to in  _years_.”

“The rivalry is here for a reason,” Ridge spoke. “To keep  _you_  scum in your place. To keep you from, getting too much confidence in those minds of yours… keep you from  _killing_.” The way that Ridge stared at Smith made the boy avert his gaze, made his head swim with so many insults and ways to start a fight.

“Listen, Ridge- You may be rich- but a Westie died that night too… Don’t play innocent in this situation.”

“That wasn’t our faults,” Ridge murmured. “Hell, if you guys would just… stay away- then we wouldn’t be in this situation, would we?”

“It wasn’t  _our_  faults either. I think you are forgetting what happened,” Smith sighed. “Do you  _really_  need a reminder?”

“Whatever you are going to say is just going to be  _lies_.”

“Is that what you’ve been telling them,” Smith asked. “That we are lying… Mate, if they heard the real story I’m sure that they would turn against you real quick-”

“Don’t- don’t even bother. They  _know_  what happened.”

Smith scoffed. “No- they know what  _you_  want them to know.”

Smith took a deep breath, biting his lip and looking back towards Trott. He looked somewhat sad, yet held a posture of someone filled with pride, probably in himself.

“My family, used to be on the East Side- j-just like you guys. Before the rivalry, we were all friends. My brother, was best friends with Trott’s brother, and I’m sure you are /all/ very familiar with Trott,” Smith paused, gesturing towards the brunet then looking back at them. “They were best friends, maybe even more… But… Something happened. There was a fight- a fight that split the East Siders from the West Siders. During the fight, someone- one of  _your_  people... brought a gun. With rage, he shot and  _killed_  Trott’s brother… A-and… And then m-my brother… killed… well… he killed Ridge’s older sister... for revenge I guess. It was a m-mistake… Two lives were taken, and t-two were sent to j-jail.”

“Who… who shot Trott’s brother,” Ross spoke out, his voice shaky. Inside, he knew. He just had this feeling in his stomach, that made him feel heavy. He didn’t  _need_  the confirmation, but he wanted it.

Smith sighed, looking over at Ross. His grave expression made Ross cringe, and he didn’t even have to say the words. The dark-haired boy nodded, biting his lip.

In between the silence, Ridge cried out. “ALL LIES!”

“No, it isn’t,” Smith replied in stammers, his voice filled with frustration and guilt. “A-and I’m s-sorry it happened, Ridge… I-I really am…” Smith saw the way Ridge’s face changed. How the look of fury had turned to one of sadness, how he looked down and sniffled as he wiped his sleeve across his face. “A-and there i-isn’t anything to be done… I-I wish it d-didn’t happened… b-but we can’t change the past…”

“We can change the future though,” Smith continued. He turned his head to look at his own friends. “We can put it all behind us, become friends again. I don’t think any of you are terrible, just… misinformed… And we were too, don’t get me wrong. It’s nobody’s fault, and if we get over this-”

“You are just like him,” Ridge rasped, looking at Smith. “You are  _just_  like your brother. Trying to push the blame away, pretend it never happened…” The boy paused, before continuing to speak.

Ross watched him carefully, watched as his voice got louder and his movements more sporadic. He looked insane standing there, screaming about the  _real_  problems that were the West Siders… How the East Siders were the  _real_  victims, how Smith’s family were  _traitors_.

Nobody else noticed- but Ross did. Ross watched the way that Ridge reached into his back pocket, and watched the way his fingers wrapped around the gun that he didn’t accept earlier. For a moment Ross was shocked, unable to do anything as Ridge pulled it out.

“...but you know what- History  _always_  repeats itself in one way or another,” Ridge finished, his face twisting into an evil grin. He pulled the gun from his pocket, and while everyone around him froze, Ross was pulled into action.

“ALEX!” His voice was loud, a wailing shriek as he sprinted across the field towards the redhead. Smith’s eyes were locked on Ridge, watching as the boy raised his arms and pointed the barrel of the gun right at him.

The redhead felt a shove at his side as he was pushed over, landing on the red dirt on the field. There was a loud bang, and the cold night was filled with shrieks as the bullet whizzed through the air.

Ross felt a sharp pain in his chest, and for a moment it didn’t even hurt. It felt like something had gone straight through him, and the screams of terror he had heard around him suddenly faded into nothingness. He felt his body fall, and as he looked up the last thing he saw was Smith’s face, looking down at him with pure shock and terror.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to all of my readers and people that commented and were so supportive of the story. It means a lot that people enjoyed it, and... just thank you so much. I love you all <3 *hugs*

“I’m looking for Ross Hornby’s room.”

The nurse at the desk looked up at him, raising her eyebrows at his state of dress. Not that he looked strange, but the hospital was on the East Side of town and any time a Westie came by they would always get weird looks.

“Your name,” she asked, her voice stoic as he clicked on the mouse a couple of times.

“Alex Smith.”

“Relationship with the patient?”

Smith hesitated. “Boyfriend.”

She looked up at him again, but her lips spread into a grin. “He’s been talking about you the whole time he’s been awake. He’s in room B117.”

Smith nodded, thanking her as he walked down the hallway that had sign hanging above it that read:  **< <<ELEVATORS RESTROOMS>>>**

He walked down the hallway, passingmany different rooms and doors. People walked by, some in hospital gowns and others sitting on benches like they were waiting. He made a left when he came to a fork in his path, and came face to face with with the elevator.

He entered the already open doors, turning on his heels and pressing the button on the console that said: B. The music in the elevator was very calming, and yet his heart was beating out of his chest and he felt like he might throw up at any moment.

Trott had told him that Ross was okay, was constantly asking for him and was happy as could be. For some reason, Smith didn’t believe him. He thought it was only a matter of time before Ross would be gone, and there was no point in going to see him in pain. After three days of persistence from the brunet, he decided to come. Apparently nobody else was supposed to come today, so hopefully it would just be the two of them alone.

When the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, he was greeted by a nurse and an older man in a wheel chair. The nurse smiled, waiting for Smith to step out of the elevator before pushing the old man inside.

The elevator let out into a long hallway with two different paths. The one to the right had a sign that read: B100-B120, and the one to the left said: B121-B140. He went right, walking towards many different doors that were both opened and closed.

As he walked, he allowed his head to turn and peek into different rooms. Most of them were empty, but in one he saw a young girl sleeping with an older man reading a magazine on a chair next to the bed. He read the numbers by the rooms as he went down, and as they got higher and higher he felt his heart beat faster and faster.

He finally got the room B117. The door was closed, and he hesitated as he held his fist over the door. With one last deep breath, he knocked somewhat quietly. He took a step back almost immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets and waiting patiently.

The door opened slowly, revealing a woman. She had blonde hair, tied up into a bun with blue eyes that Smith easily compared to Ross’. She looked tired, with dark bags under her narrowed eyes. She was much shorter than Smith, and had to crane her neck to look up at him.

Despite the way she looked exhausted, she smiled at the sight of Smith. “You, you must be Alex.”

Smith nodded. “Y-yeah, nice to meet you ma’am.” He held out his hand to shake hers. She smiled, reaching out to grasp his hand. Her’s was so soft and fragile and he was almost afraid he would accidentally break her hand.

“Come on in,” she smiled, stepping aside. “Ross is asleep right now, but you can stay until he wakes up. He’ll be so happy to see you.”

She took a seat on one of the wooden seats beside the hospital bed, gesturing towards the one that was next to her. Smith stepped inside, his eyes immediately being drawn up to Ross’ sleeping form.

His chest was bare, his lower half hidden under the thin hospital blankets. A bandage was wrapped around his chest, going under his armpit and wrapping around a couple times. His hair was a mess, and Smith found himself frozen as he stared at him.

“He’s alright, no need to look so nervous,” Mrs. Hornby chuckled. “Chris had told me how you were avoiding coming, and I understand why. I’m just happy you finally stopped by.”

Smith turned back to her, glancing back at Ross again before taking a seat next to her.

“Yeah, just- I’ve been in this situation before, obviously.”

She nodded gravely, sighing. “You know, it’s still sometimes hard to believe that happened fourteen years ago. Not to bring back bad memories, but… sometimes I feel like I /should’ve/ told him what really happened… Sometimes protecting them for everything isn’t the best.”

“What happened, isn’t your fault, though,” Smith reminded her. “You had nothing to do with that.”

She nodded. “I’d like to think you’re right, Alex. But, that was /my son/. I raised him, and… and now he’s in jail, and Ross is here in the hospital.”

“But, Ross is fine. You just said so.”

She hummed. “But he wouldn’t even be here, if I had told him the truth… Then again, maybe he wasn’t ready to hear it before.”

They were both thrown into a heavy silence, the sound of the monitor beeping the only thing that broke it. Smith glanced back at Ross. He looked so peaceful laying there, and yet the bandages that were wrapped around him made the redhead wince. /I should be in that bed./

“How long have you been at the hospital,” Smith questioned, breaking the silence.

“Three days. Luckily it’s the summer, and I don’t have to work… But God am I exhausted. These chairs are too uncomfortable to sleep in, and I feel like I have to stay up and watch him.”

“If you want, I can stay here with him. You can go home and rest.”

Mrs. Hornby bit her lip. “Are you sure?”

Smith nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine. I don’t mind sleeping here for the night, either.”

“Do you have money for food? There’s a food court downstairs, and a vending machine just down the hall…”

“Oh, it’s alright.”

Mrs. Hornby shook her head. “It is not,” she hummed, reaching into her bag that sat by her feet. She pulled out some money, handing it to Smith. “Use this. I’m sure Ross would appreciate some candy when he wakes up.”

“Are you sure,” Smith asked. “I mean, it's very generous but-”

“It’s fine. Thank you, for staying with him. I should be back in a couple hours.”

Smith nodded, watching as she stood. She leaned over Ross’ bed, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead before walking out the door.

~~~

After she had left, and Smith was left alone in the room, something just settled into his stomach. It made him feel so uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly in his seat. His eyes shifted between Ross and the clock.

The boy appeared to be breathing, and the heart monitor continued beeping along steadily as he slept. Both of his hands were resting on his lap, as he leaned up against the soft plump pillows behind him. The bags under his eyes somewhat worried Smith, and he wondered why the boy was so tired if he was able to get so much sleep.

He didn’t necessarily like being here. It reminded him too much of back when he was younger. Despite him being much too young to remember this kind of thing, he did. The memories of watching Trott’s brother die and going in between the hospital and prison scarred him in a horrible way.

Ross shifted in his sleep, curling to the right side and turning onto his side. Smith winced, thinking it must hurt, but was surprised when Ross didn’t seem to be uncomfortable. He seemed to fidget under the blankets just slightly, but Smith ignored it in that moment in favor of looking at his phone.

_From Trott:_

_You actually went?  
_

_To Trott:_

_Yes_

_From Trott:_

_Is he happy to see you? Mate, I told you he was dying to see you earlier._

_To Trott:_

_He’s not awake… he looks exhausted honestly_

_From Trott:_

_Well.. I mean… he’s been getting nightmares so…_

Before Smith could respond, he heard Ross shift suddenly in bed, followed by a groan of discomfort. He looked up, his eyes spotting the boy who had turned to his other side. His mouth was pulled into a frown, and his whole body seemed to curl into the fetal position.

“Ross,” Smith whispered, his voice gentle and smooth in the otherwise quiet room.

There was no response, and instead Ross shifted again, whimpering bringing his hands up to his face. Murmurs bled from his lips in whimpers and groans, and for a moment Smith was at a loss as to what to do.

“Ross?”

The boy just shifted again, whimpering and moving restlessly under the covers. Smith gulped, slipping his phone into his pocket and standing. He walked over towards the bed, stopping right at the side and staring down at Ross.

A clear layer of sweat seemed to coat his body, and he looked so helpless curled into a little ball. The redhead took a deep breath, reaching his hand forward warily. He touched Ross’ shoulder gently, before curling his fingers around him and shaking him.

“Ross? Please wake up,” Smith muttered, his voice low and soft.

At that, Ross seemed to jump awake. His eyes shot open in panic and he sat up straight, his arms flailing and his head spinning.

“Smith,” he screamed as he awoke, his eyes darting around wildly. When they fell upon Smith though, his face changed.

His chest was heaving and he was flushed, but instead of a look of fear he smiled at the sight of the redhead.

“You came,” has asked, his voice sounding hopeful and hoarse.

Smith nodded, kneeling beside the bed and smiling. “Y-yeah, I heard you were asking for me?”

Ross blushed. “Wh-who told you that?”

Smith chuckled. “Pretty much everybody... “ He paused, sighing as he debated his next words. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“That’s alright,” the dark-haired boy hummed, grinning up at Smith. “I’m just happy you’re here… God I missed you.”

Smith let out a shaky breath. “I-I missed you too.”

“You look so nervous. I’m alive, you know,” Ross chuckled, reaching his arm forward to cup Smith’s cheek. His smile grew as he did so, his thumb rubbing over the pale skin.

“Y-yeah, I know.”

“Then stop acting like you’ve seen a ghost and kiss me,” Ross laughed.

The redhead nodded, standing back up and instead leaning over Ross. His hand reached forward to cup his chin, his fingers running along his jaw as he brought his lips tantalizingly close. He could feel Ross’ breath on his lips, and the hand that came up to grip his shoulder.

Ross sighed before pressing his lips to Smith. The second he did, it was almost like a wakeup call to Smith. The boy sprung into action, his fingers tightening on Ross’ jaw as he pushed his lips up against him. He wanted to feel the boy, feel his chapped lips and the warmth he provided that he was so afraid would be gone forever.

Their lips moved together, slow but harsh in the nicest way. Smith’s other hand gripped Ross’ neck, pulling him closer and pushing against him harder. Ross’ hand tightened on Smith’s shoulder, a whimper leaving his lips as Smith’s warmth and fervour bled against his mouth.

He pulled back reluctantly, letting out a breath that he hadn’t been able to.

“God, I thought you were dead,” Smith whimpered, his voice a rasp as he rested his forehead against Ross’. He closed his eyes, feeling Ross’ warm breath on  his face. The boy reached up to gently cup his cheek, smoothing his fingers over his jaw.

“Smith, are you growing stubble,” Ross giggled, his fingers moving against the very bottom of his chin and back up to his ear. “Wow, what a man you are.”

Smith pulled back, staring at Ross with a sort of confusion. The smile on his face warmed his heart, but he couldn’t believe it was there on his lips as he sat in a hospital bed.

“How are you so… happy and adorable… Ross you  _took a bullet_ for me. You almost  _died_.”

“If I hadn’t done it, Alex, do you really think you would’ve magically survived. We both know your parents could barely afford a hospital… fuck… I couldn’t let you just get shot, I couldn’t just watch you…”

Smith sighed. “You were having a nightmare right now.”

“I know.”

“Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

Ross shook his head, looking down as he licked his lips. He let out a shuddering breath, bringing his hand up to run his hand through his hair. “Just you… being shot… over and over and o-over and o-over…”

“Shh Ross,” Smith whispered. “You are okay, see?”

Ross looked up, his icy blue eyes watery. He sniffled, wiping his nose on his arm. “You say that, when you don’t even believe it yourself.”

The redhead chuckled somberly, the laugh dry and not with any sort of humorous emotion. “I was just, preparing myself. After… I just expected it…”

“What happened, after…?” Ross trailed off, watching Smith’s expression change.

“The cops came, I sat there sobbing over you for awhile. Everyone else crowded around, Ridge split. The cops found him hiding in the hills, he’s being tried, but it’s not looking good for him… The cops questioned everyone and the ambulance took you away… Fucking God it was terrible…”

“How is… everyone else?”

Smith’s face seemed to brighten, a grin splitting his lips. “We played a nice game of baseball, all went to the diner together… You know they are all nice and sweet. Kim’s a riot, and so is Turps… But honestly right after the movie somebody said…  _something_  about you and pretty much everyone burst out crying.” The boy laughed. “It was good though… When you get out of the hospital we should all go out again. You probably won’t be able to play for awhile, but you can always watch…”

“I’ll  cheer for you,” Ross smiled. “Always for you.” 


End file.
